


Her darkest desire

by Strip_dancer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dark Romance, Draco is a mature refined man, Drama, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/F, F/M, Fear your dreams for one day they might come true, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulative possessive dominant and sadistic Draco, Multi, Romance, Rose is obsessed with Draco, Slow Burn, Some BDSM, but still a bastard, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-01-20 11:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12432279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strip_dancer/pseuds/Strip_dancer
Summary: She fell in love with him at sixteen. At seventeen her love turned into an obsession. By the time she was twenty-five, obsession had consumed her life. Rose’s darkest desire is to be with Mr. Malfoy. She doesn’t know yet that some dreams are better left as dreams.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my wonderful beta and a talented author The_Artful_Scribbler. Thank you for all your hard work and your support, dear! xox 
> 
> This story is a translation from Russian. If you are a Russian speaker, you can find it here https://ficbook.net/readfic/5800396

You are an obsession,  
You're my obsession.  
Who do you want me to be  
To make you sleep with me?  
My fantasy has turned to madness,  
All my goodness has turned to badness,  
My need to possess you has consumed my soul,  
My life is trembling I have no control  
“Obsession” Animotion. 

PART ONE

**WHERE DREAMS ARE BORN**

 

Rose Weasly would always remember the day she met Mr. Malfoy. 

It happened about a month after the end of her first year of Hogwarts, when Scorpius invited her and Albus to stay at the Malfoy Manor for two weeks. Albus, who was sorted into Slytherin, quickly became friends with Scorpius, much to astonishment and displeasure of their parents. Rose became a Gryffindor, but that didn’t stop her from loving Albus, who was closer to her than her own brother. 

At first, Scorpius treated her with contempt and constantly mocked her red hair, freckles and her small, plump figure. Already insecure, Rose cried bitterly every time he said something cruel to her. Finally, Al and Scorp came to blows with each other, and after that Scorpius grudgingly agreed to bury the hatchet. Rose was too smart to believe that he had actually became fond of her, but Albus was her only friend, so she decided to keep her feelings about the nasty blond boy to herself. 

Timid and self-conscious, Rose was bullied relentlessly by her classmates, who hated her because of good grades and famous parents. Al, the son of the greatest celebrity of the wizarding world, was also a target of constant mockery, and Scorpious was despised simply for being a Malfoy. So, after the first month of the school year, all three became social pariahs, and that was the reason why eventually they became such good friends. For the same reason Scorpius’s parents invited his friends to stay at Malfoy Manor, and Al and Rose’s parents accepted the invitation. 

So, on a hot summer day, a visibly-tense Hermione took her daughter’s hand and apparated to the gates of Malfoy Manor. Harry and an excited Albus appeared on the same spot a few minutes later. 

Rose noticed that the adults exchanged gloomy looks before touching the frame of the wrought-iron gates with their wands. 

The gates opened, and all four headed for the large and imposing manor. Rose and Al marvelled at wonders around them with open mouths – lush lawns, fountains and statutes, beautiful flower beds… Then they saw Scorpius and ran towards him with huge smiles on their faces. Scorpius was so happy to see them that Rose realized how lonely he must be, all alone in this huge house, being the only child in the family. 

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were awaiting their guests on the porch of the mansion, presenting a picture of a perfect couple – both tall, beautiful and elegant. Having remembered about good manners, Scorpius hurried to introduce his friends to his parents. 

When Rose met the cold gaze of Malfoy-senior she felt a shiver of fear and admiration running down her back. He wasn’t classically beautiful – his forehead was too large, nose and chin too pointy, and his skin was too pale. His impenetrable eyes, the color of which reminded her of melted silver, were as cold as ice. But there was something very alluring in his proud bearing, in the predatory expression of his face, and the long, elegant lines of his slender body. And this “something” made her heart beat faster. Although Rose had barely turned twelve, her instincts told her that this man had seduced a great many women. 

She blushed and stuttered, “Good morning Mr. M-malfoy,” unable to tear her eyes away from his face. When Mr. Malfoy noticed her glowing cheeks, his thin lips curved into an amused smile, and Rose felt that her face is quickly turning from red to vermilion. Feeling like a silly little girl, she hurried to hide behind her mother’s back, who approached the hosts with a stone-hard expression on her face. 

Later they were having tea at an open terrace, decorated with exotic potted flowers and marble statues. Tea was served by two house elves dressed in blue uniforms, which upon seeing Hermione Granger-Weasley broke into a wide smile. Rose groaned inwardly, knowing that her mother was about to deliver another long, flowery speech about the rights of magical creatures. 

Sighing, she took a small sip from her cup and furtively ran her eyes over the people at the table. Al and Scorp looked bored – they were dying to finish tea and get rid of the adults. Mrs. Malfoy was listening to Hermione with a polite smile, not showing even the slightest sign of impatience. She wore a light makeup and an elegant peach-colored dress that accentuated her golden tan and dark hair. Everything about her seemed perfect – her beautiful face and flawless figure, her straight posture and refined manners. In comparison with this sophisticated lady, Rose’s mother, with her unkempt hair and disheveled appearance, looked plain and untidy. 

Rose felt a wave of shame running over her, as happened every time when gossip columnists from various newspapers mocked her mother’s complete disregard for her appearance. Letting out a sad sigh, she looked at uncle Harry, who was tapping his fingers impatiently on the table, and then at Mr. Malfoy. The master of the Manor was reclining elegantly in his chair and looking at her mother with a sardonic smile on his face. Suddenly he looked directly at Rose, as if he had felt her gaze. Flushing another bight shade of red, she quickly lowered her eyes, inwardly cursing herself. It was the second time this man had caught her staring at him! Embarrassed, she pretended to be studying the intricate design of her porcelain cup for the rest of the lunch. When it finally it was over, Rose’s mother pulled her aside.

“I hope you will behave well, Rose,” she said in a strict tone. “Don’t stay up reading all night. At home you can sleep until noon, but it would be very impolite to do so when you’re a guest.” 

“I always behave well, mum,” muttered Rose, annoyed that her mother was treating her like a little girl.

“Make sure your clothes are clean and put on a fresh pair of knickers every night. Did you pack enough? I didn’t have time to check…”

“Mum!” cried Rose in dismay, praying that no one overheard this conversation.

“If you need something, owl me. Do not ask Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy for anything, do you understand?”

“You already told me that! I’ll be fine, mum, I promise!”

“Alright then,” smiled Hermione, tenderly patting her on a cheek. “I love you, pumpkin.” 

“I love you too, mummy.”

They kissed, and then Rose joined the boys, who were impatiently waiting for her.

“Let’s go!” said Scorp excitedly. “Dad bought a pair of Pegasuses with hu-u-uge wings,” he spread his arms as wide as he could, “I’ve been wanting to show you for, like, forever!”

“Cool!” cried Al, “Can we see them without adults? Right now?” 

“I ordered Robert not to let you children anywhere near the paddock,” said а stern male voice behind them. “You can look from afar, but do not approach them under any circumstances.” 

The kids turned around with disappointed faces.

“But da-a-ad,” whined Scorpius, “Robert told me they already got used to the new place. He told me…”

“It’s not open for discussion, Scorpius,” interrupted his father, frowning, “Pegasuses are dangerous and unpredictable. If I catch anyone of you sneaking around the paddock, I will administer an appropriate punishment personally. Is that understood?”

When he heard one “Yes, father”, and two “Yes, Mr. Malfoy”, he gave the kids a very stern look and dismissed them with a curt nod.

“Is he always like that?” asked Albus quietly, as they walked towards the house.

“Always,” sighed Scorpius. 

*******

Despite the promise she gave her mother, Rose stayed up reading till midnight. 

She was reading her favorite book, “Fantasm” by Mary Flowers. Rose had secretly bought it in a small shabby bookstore while visiting her grandparents Granger last summer. 

After reading the very first scene, where a shameless couple were ‘doing it’ right on the top of a tombstone, she realized that this book must never fall into the hands of her parents. 

At home Rose would read “Fantasm” under the covers with a flashlight, which was not comfortable at all. But now, sprawled on the large bed in a guest room, she enjoyed her newfound freedom. Right at the moment when the main character Mike (with whom she was hopelessly in love) was about to enter the cellar of the Columbarium, a strange noise interrupted Rose’s peaceful reading. She looked up and froze when she saw a poltergeist floating right above her. He looked like a very fat gnome and had a huge mischievous smile on his round face. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” asked he with a high-pitched singsong voice. “A little girl reading a book when she should be sleeping?! What a bad, bad girl!”

Suddenly, he snatched the book out of Rose’s hands and flew all the way up to the ceiling, giggling and sticking out his tongue.

“Hey, give it back!” yelled Rose. “Give it back this instant!”

The poltergeist let out a giant belly laugh, opened the book in the middle and with a dramatic gesture ripped out a page. Gasping loudly, Rose jumped from the bed and furiously shook her little fist. 

“Stop it! Stop it right now! Give my book back, you little pig!”

Glowing with happiness, the ghost tore the page into tiny pieces, showered Rose with improvised confetti and flew out of the room with her book. She ran after him panting and muttering swear words which would get her into big trouble, if her mother ever heard them. 

Following the sound of malicious giggles, Rose ran along the dark hall until she reached the staircase, where she saw the poltergeist flying down into the darkness of the second floor.

“Damn, damn, damn!” – she cursed, running down the stairs after him, “If anyone catches me here, I’ll be sent home in the blink of an eye!”

Trying not to make a single noise, Rose crept along the left wing of the hall in the direction that the ghost had disappeared. One of the doors was slightly ajar, and a soft light was spilling out of the room. The poltergeist was floating right there, holding her books in his tiny fat fists. He looked at her with a mischievous smile, nodded toward the door and then disappeared. 

_“I should return to bed!”_ thought Rose with dismay.

But feeling the irresistible pull of curiosity, she approached the door on her tiptoes and peeked into the room. 

There were two people inside – Mr. Malfoy and a tall beautiful woman with luscious dark hair and voluptuous figure. They were arguing about something – Rose couldn’t hear a word because of the inaudibility spell. Perching at the edge of the table Mr. Malfoy was looking at the woman with an annoyed expression. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, several top buttons were undone, and his blond hair was disheveled, as if he ran his hand through it several times.  


He looked so handsome, that for several long moments Rose stared at him in awe. Meanwhile the argument was becoming more and more heated. The woman was yelling and flailing her arms wildly, while Mr. Malfoy was regarding her with ice-cold contempt. When he said something with a sneer on his face, she froze and then lashed out at him, her hand raised as though to slap him across the face. With lightning speed, he caught her arm and twisted it behind the woman’s back, then grabbed a fistful of her hair and cruelly pulled her head back. 

Rose watched the scene with bated breath. She has never seen a man treating a woman in such a rough manner! Holding the woman, Mr. Malfoy said something into her ear, and her beautiful face with large dark eyes and ruby-red lips visibly paled. The instant he let her go, the woman quickly went to the fireplace, barely holding her tears. 

Mr. Malfoy sat at the edge of the table once again and tiredly rubbed his forehead. Suddenly, he looked directly at the door, as if he could see through it. Rose almost squealed in fear and ran away as fast as a speeding bludger, but was forced to lurch to a stop when a wall appeared out of thin air, right in front of her.  


Struck with horror, she slowly turned around to face Mr. Malfoy, who lowered his wand, an inscrutable expression on his face.

“Follow me.” 

Rose followed him into the room, feeling like a lamb led to the slaughter. With a curt nod Mr. Malfoy gave her an order to sit on the couch and lowered himself in the armchair situated opposite. Acquiring a comfortable position, he crossed his legs and stared at Rose without saying a single word. 

His gaze seemed to pierce and hold her, like a bug pinned to an entomologist’s collection. Rose started fidgeting in her seat. Biting her lip, she nervously looked at her shaking fingers, then at the soft carpet on the floor, then at the two wine glasses on the coffee table. There was a lipstick print on the edge of one of the glasses, and for some reason Rose flushed when she saw it. Meanwhile, the silence in the room was becoming unbearable. Rose hesitantly looked at Mr. Malfoy, but, encountering his stern gaze, she quickly lowered her eyes. 

_“I wish he would simply yell at me, like dad does…"_ she thought desperately.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Rose forced herself to meet the penetrating gaze of Mr Malfoy’s cold, grey eyes.

“Mr. Malfoy…” she started tentatively and hesitated, not knowing what to say. Why couldn’t he say something, instead of looking at her as if she had committed some grievous crime?! 

He curved a thin eyebrow, which made her feel even more embarrassed. There was no way she could just admit that she was spying on him and his…his… For the first time she got curious as to who this lady actually was, and why she was visiting Mr. Malfoy at such a late hour. The answer was all too obvious. A picture flashed through her mind like a snitch – the beautiful woman lying naked on the couch with Mr. Malfoy (for some reason fully clothed) on top of her. They were kissing… What should follow, she didn’t exactly know, although her book had given her some insight into the process. Supposedly, they should move in a certain way and make all kinds of ridiculous noises. 

_“And he should probably be naked too…”_ came another thought, which was quickly followed by an even more explicit picture. Rose’s ears instantly turned hot, and when she looked at the mirror on the wall, she saw that her face was as red as beetroot. Unable to bear the thought that this handsome man was seeing her so hideously flushed, and utterly confused about how she would explain her presence, she moaned in despair, buried her face in a couch pillow and promptly burst into tears. 

She almost died from mortification when heard Mr. Malfoy chuckle. “Now, now, no need to be so embarrassed,” he said with a note of laughter in his deep voice. “My god, I’ve never seen anyone blush like that!”

Perching at the edge of the couch, he patted her consolingly on the shoulder. 

“Well, stop it. Let go of the pillow and look at me.”

Rose shook her head, clutching the pillow as if her life depended on it. 

“No? Why not?”

“You’ll just l-laugh at me,” – she sobbed.

“I won’t.”

“You will!”

“I said, that I won’t!” – there was a hint of impatience in his voice now.

“You will!”

“Rose…” he said her name in a tone that made her shiver. “You will stop these childish hysterics this instant, and tell me what you have been doing up so late, eavesdropping behind the doors of my office.”

It was impossible not to obey his voice. Letting go of the pillow, Rose sat, hugging her knees and lowering her head guiltily.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” said she, wiping her cheeks.

“Look at me.”

She peered up at him cautiously. He was sitting so close that she could feel the heat of his body and smell the fresh scent of his cologne mixed with bitter cigarette fumes. This close she could even see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes and slight stubble on his chin and cheeks. 

“I don’t like people lying to me, Rose.”

“But I am not lying!” cried she indignantly. “How could I eavesdrop, when you cast the Imperturbable spell?!”

He looked at her as if she had said something hilarious, and then burst into laughter. 

Bewildered, Rose stared at him, unable to understand what was so funny about her words. Suddenly his expression turned serious.

“What _were_ you doing then, hmm?”

“Nothing,” answered Rose, her eyes darting around nervously. “Your poltergeist stole my book, and I ran after him, and he disappeared right near this door, so I was just waiting for it…”

Mr. Malfoy gently touched his fingers to her chin and forced her to look at him, then he frowned.

“I didn’t see anything!” Rose blurted out.

His eyes turned ice-cold.

“I already told you, that I don’t like people lying to me,” he said. “Were it Scorpius, I’d give him a very thorough spanking. Stop trying my patience, girl.”

Shocked, Rose looked at him with huge eyes. Her parents were very strict, but they had never spanked her or Hugo. 

“Now tell me, what did you see? And this time don’t lie.” 

“I…I only saw you and that woman arguing and nothing more, I swear!”

For several long moments Mr. Malfoy stared directly into her eyes, as if tried to penetrate her brain. Then he got up and went to the liquor cabinet.

“I am very disappointed in you, Rose.” He put several ice cubes in a thick glass tumbler, then poured a little tawny liquid over the ice. “Scorpius described you as a good, well-behaved girl, and that’s why I allowed him to invite you into our house. But on your very first night here I catch you spying on me.” He took a sip of his drink, then placed the glass down on the cabinet top with a sharp bang. “I have no choice but to tell your parents about your outrageous behavior and asked them to take you and Albus back.”

Turning deathly pale, Rose froze. And upon seeing his inexorable expression, she buried her face in her hands and started weeping with great wracking gasps of sorrow, as if someone had died. It was horrible! Albus and Scorpius would hate her, and she would lose her only friends. Mum wouldn’t be talk to her for a week, and dad would yell so loudly that her ears would ring. …And everybody would abandon her, she would be all alone for the rest of her life! But the most terrible thing of all was that she had disappointed Mr. Malfoy – the mere thought was unbearable! 

Rose was almost choking with tears when suddenly she felt a gentle hand caressing her head. 

“P-please don’t tell anything to my p-parents!” she cried. “Everybody will h-hate me… m-my m-mum and d-dad, and Al and…”

“I don’t think it’s even possible to hate you, little Red,” he said. His voice sounded strange, very low and kind of caressing. “Calm down. If it upsets you so much, I won’t tell on you to anyone.”

“P-promise?”

“I promise. It will be our little secret.”

Wrapping her in a warm soft plaid, Mr. Malfoy pulled Rose onto his lap. Still sobbing, she buried her wet face in his chest. He was soothingly running his hand up and down her back until she calmed down. Then he gave her a handkerchief and told her to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. And then something wonderful happened – a big mug of hot chocolate with floating little marshmallows appeared in Mr. Malfoy’s hands.

“Be careful, it’s hot,” said he with a smile. “Drink it slowly or you’ll burn your tongue.”

Rose carefully sipped her chocolate, wondering, how it was possible to feel deep despair one second, and absolute happiness in another. 

“Will you let us stay?” she asked timidly.

“I will. But first you must promise me that you won’t tell anyone about what you saw. What happened between that woman and me, is our private business. Do you understand?”

“I won’t tell anyone, Mr. Malfoy, I swear! Do you believe me?”

He smiled looking down at her little face, full of hope.

“I do. Now tell me again, what were you doing down here.”

“Your poltergeist stole my favorite book! And I ran after him to take it back.”

“I see. He loves making game of our guests. …Jester!” he called sharply.

The ghost appeared out of the thin air right in front of them. For some reason he was wearing a monocle with a cracked glass and a huge lady’s hat. 

“This is a very tragic story, master,” said the ghost with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Very tragic, indeed. I rarely express my opinion on such matters, because I lack the talent of a brilliant literary critic, but…”

“Jester…” interrupted Mr. Malfoy softly, but Rose felt a shiver running down her back when she heard his voice. “You will not bother our guest anymore. Is that understood?”

Apparently, the ghost wasn’t a complete idiot, because he instantly returned the book with such a deep bow, that the hat fell off his head. 

“Yes, master…” he bowed obsequiously once again. “Of course, master…” another bow. “I delight to obey your every word, master…”

“Get out!” snapped Mr. Malfoy, losing his cool. 

The poltergeist promptly disappeared.

“Why won’t you perform an exorcism on him?” asked Rose shyly.

“Jester has been living in the Manor for almost five hundred years and will live long after I am gone. This is his home just as it is mine. Don’t worry, he won’t be bothering you anymore.”

“Thank you,” muttered Rose, trying to find a way to get her book back, without Mr. Malfoy seeing its contents. “Well, it’s late… I should return to my room now…”

She stood up, holding the half-drank mug of chocolate in one hand. Mr. Malfoy, who remained seated, was looking at her with an amused smile. 

“If you don’t mind…” Rose hesitantly tried to take the book, but he didn’t allow her to.

“Let me see what is so wonderful about this book, that you ran to save it in the middle of the night wearing just your pajamas.”

“It’s just a silly muggle story, you won’t like it!” she said, extremely alarmed.

But Mr. Malfoy paid no mind to her words. Helplessly Rose watched him open the cover and leisurely read the first page. When he looked up at her, raising his eyebrows, she felt a hot glow spread over her face and down her neck.

“I suppose your parents have no idea that you own it,” he said dryly.

Rose shook her head, staring at the floor.

“This is not a book for children, Rose, and you know it very well.”

“There’s just a couple of adult scenes there,” she muttered in absolute mortification. “Nothing interesting.”

For some reason Mr. Malfoy found her words hilarious. 

“Nothing interesting?” repeated he, snorting with laughter. “My dear girl, after reading the very first scene, I dread to think of what will follow! In any case, I am confiscating this book for your own good, young lady!” he stood up and went to the bookcase.

Rose rushed after him.

“But Mr. Malfoy, it’s my favorite book! I’ve already read it five times!”

“All the more important that I prevent you from reading it again. I will return it when you’re a bit older. No, don’t argue with me.”

Annoyed, Rose pouted, but he paid no mind to her childish expression. 

“Now,” he said, “I will see you to your room. And _don’t_ walk around the house at night anymore. It can be a dangerous place, especially for curious young ladies.”  


He escorted Rose to her room and with a wave of his wand heated the half-full mug of chocolate she still carried in one hand.

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth before going to bed.”

 _“Why are all adults so tedious?!”_ thought Rose, annoyed. 

“I never forget to brush my teeth!” she said indignantly and blushed when she saw his smile. He was teasing her again!

“Good night, little Red.”

She blushed even more, but this time with a wave of pleasure washing over her. He was the only one to call her like that, and she loved it. 

“Good night, Mr. Malfoy.” Darting a shy smile at him, she quickly closed the door, fearing that he could somehow sense her excitement. 

Later she sat in her warm bed, sipping the chocolate and thinking about the master of the Manor.

 _“What an interesting man,”_ she thought. _“Mum and dad always said so many nasty things about him, but I like him. …But who was that beautiful lady? And what were they arguing about?”_

When Rose fell asleep, she dreamed of a man with silvery eyes and a teasing smile on his beautiful face. And for some reason, the dream filled her with a feeling of pure happiness.


	2. Chapter 2

Next summer, Rose and Albus were invited to Malfoy Manor again. 

During the year many exiting changes had happened in Rose’s life. Now she had a best friend – a kind and funny girl from Hufflepuff. And she also had a secret admirer who sent her a heart-shaped card on Valentine’s Day. 

Also, Rose got tiny breasts and started wearing a bra. She didn’t really need it, but she wanted to wear “adult” underwear so much, that she managed to pester her mum to buy her several cute bras. 

Rose was very happy with all these changes, and now was looking forward to meeting Mr. Malfoy again with great anticipation. She wanted him to like her so badly! But much to her disappointment, the master of the Manor wasn’t there to meet them, like he did last year. 

Over tea, Mrs. Malfoy told her guests, her mum and her aunt Ginny, that her husband was in France on business. When Rose heard these news, the warm, sunny day instantly lost its beauty for her. Tired and for some reason irritated, she went to bed early, but was tossing and turning for a while, because her breasts had suddenly turned swollen and sore. Finally, exhausted, she fell asleep when it was well past midnight. 

During the next two days Rose felt even worse. For no reason at all she was extremely moody and annoyed with everyone, and was slept much more than she usually did. 

“What the heck has got into her?!” Scorpius once asked his friend. 

“It’s like she was bitten by a rabid pixie,” muttered Albus, disgruntled after being yelled at by his little cousin yet again.

Mrs. Malfoy didn’t notice anything – she also was in a gloomy mood and drank a lot of wine with her dinner every night. 

When Rose came down for dinner on the fourth night, she saw the master of the Manor sitting at the head of the table, but she was feeling too ill to get excited about his return. Picking at her food, she only half-listened to the conversation at the dinner table. Apparently, Mrs. Malfoy had to go to Switzerland because one of her parents, on vacation in the mountains, was very sick with flu.

“Are you alright, Rose?” Mr. Malfoy suddenly asked, looking at her intently from across the table. “You look very pale.”

“I’m just tired,” answered Rose, shrugging. “Can I go up to my room now? I’m not hungry.”

“Of course. But promise you’ll tell me, if you start to feel worse.”

“I will. Have a good night, Mr. Malfoy.”

As soon as the girl exited the room, Scorpius said to his father in a hushed voice, “She hasn’t been herself lately.”

“Is that so? And you don’t have any clue, as to why?”

“Women…” said Scorpius with a thoughtful expression on his face which amused his father greatly, “who can understand them?”

***

When Rose awoke the next morning, she immediately felt a weird ache in her tummy and wetness between her legs. Frowning, she put her hand in her knickers and gasped when saw blood on her fingers.

 _“I’ve got my period!”_ she thought excitedly. Like every other girl, Rose had been waiting for her first period with great anticipation, believing it would make her an adult. Then, with a pang of dismay: _“Dear God, I forgot to pack the sanitary pads!”_

Last year her mother had given Rose a pack of sanitary pads and explained how to use them. At first, Rose had carried the package in a little pocket of her bag, until one day she put it on a shelf of her nightstand and left it there. And that’s how she found herself in this horrible situation. 

She was almost beside herself. There weren’t any females in the Manor at the moment. She couldn’t go to the owlery because she’d die from shame if Mr. Malfoy or one of the boys saw her stained clothes. But even if she managed to send a letter to her mother, the response probably wouldn’t come until evening, because her mum always got tons of mail that she was too busy to open right away. 

_“What should I do now?!”_ – thought Rose in desperation, but couldn’t find a single answer. She tried to call a house elf, but apparently, they only answered the calls of their masters. Finally, she got up, looked with disgust at a big red stain on the sheets and, doubling over in pain, stumbled through to the bathroom.

_“And now I’ll have to go through this every month?!”_ thought she grimly. _“It’s just disgusting!”_

As soon as she finished showering, her thighs were stained with blood again.

“Oh, for crying out loud! Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting!”

Cursing, Rose wiped her legs dry, ran to her room and quickly put on a clean par of knickers and pajama pants. Then she covered the stain on the sheets with a towel and climbed into bed again. 

_“I guess I’ve got no other choice but to wait for Al to come and check on me, and ask him to send the letter. And then stay in my room, as quiet as a mouse, until mum owls me back. Oh god, what a dreadful morning!"_

She lay in bed for another hour, moaning from pain and self-pity. 

Suddenly there was a sharp knock at the door. “Rose, are you alright?” she heard Mr. Malfoy’s voice from the other side of the door. “Why didn’t you come down for breakfast?”

_“Oh no, not HIM!”_ moaned Rose inwardly, horrified. 

“I’m fine Mr. Malfoy!” Her faint voice sounded unconvincingly even to herself. “I just didn’t sleep well last night. Could you please call for Al? I need to ask him for something.”

For several moments he was quiet.

“Rose, you will open this door right now and tell me what is going on. As long as you’re in this house, I am the one responsible for you.”

“I’m fine, I swear! Just call for Al, please!”

“If you don’t open the door this instant, I will open it myself.”

“Please don’t!”

But the door swung open and Mr. Malfoy entered the room, dressed in a gray morning suit, and bringing with him the aroma of coffee and fresh cologne. Seeing her pale face, he quickly approached the bed with a frown on his handsome face.

“What happened? Are you sick?”

Embarrassed beyond belief, Rose wished for the ground to swallow her up. Burying her face in the pillow, she shook her head and sobbed, gasping at the cramps in her tummy again.

“Stop trying my patience, silly girl! Can you tell me what’s going on, or not?!”

Despite his irritated voice, Mr. Malfoy gently brushed hair away from her face and made her look at him. Rose blushed.

“I’ve got my… my…” she couldn’t bring herself to say the word. “…Do you understand?” she asked pleadingly.

He gazed at her with a puzzled expression, but then sudden understanding registered in his eyes.

“Ah… I see…”

With a loud sob she nodded and then buried her face in the pillow once again. Quickly regaining his composure, Mr. Malfoy awkwardly patted one of her shaking shoulders.

“Are you in pain?” asked he softly. “Is that why you’re crying?”

“It h-hurts so much!” she moaned. “B-but that’s not why I’m crying!”

“Then why?”

“I am so embarrassed!”

“Don’t be silly. It’s natural, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“P-please, I d-don’t want to t-talk about it!”

“Of course… I’ll order one of my female house elves to give you everything you need and bring your breakfast. Make sure to eat before taking painkilling potion. When you feel better, I can apparate you home, if you like.”

Rose quieted down, thinking, then shook her head.

“My parents are very busy all the time, and Hugo is visiting our grandparents. I’ll be very lonely at home… I should feel better soon, shouldn’t I?” 

“I think so. Do write your mother, though, she ought to know. The house elf will owl the letter.”

“Okay… Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” she murmured, looking at him with a shy smile on her face.

“You’re welcome,” he answered very seriously, then ran his hand through his hair and chuckled. “I never imagined that one day I’d ever be having this conversation. I’ll take it as a lesson for when I have a teenage daughter myself. If I ever have one, of course.”

“You did very well!,” said Rose with a giggle.

He smiled. “I’m glad to know that. Let me know if you need anything else, alright?”

“I will!,” she said.

By the time evening came, Rose was feeling well enough to come down for dinner. As promised, a female house-elf had provided her with all the necessary items to ensure her cleanliness and comfort, and her mum had also sent a back-up supply, along with instructions to come back home if she continued to feel sick. But having taken the painkilling potion, the cramps had abated and she felt much better. 

As soon as she appeared in the dining room the boys started bombarding her with questions, but Mr. Malfoy interrupted them sternly, reminding them to mind their table manners. Sending him a grateful smile, Rose took her seat and started eating with great appetite. 

_“What as unusual man!”_ she thought to herself, furtively glancing at the master of the Manor. _“He’s so different from my dad and my uncles! …I like him so much! So very, very much!”_


	3. Chapter 3

Over the course of the several following years, it became a tradition for Rose and Al to spend their summers at Malfoy Manor. 

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were present only during dinner time, so the teenagers were looked after primarily by house elves. But as soon as they got into mischief, the elves promptly informed the master of the Manor about their bad behavior. 

Mr. Malfoy treated his son’s friends as strictly as Scorpius, so Rose tried her best to behave well. For some reason she wanted Mr. Malfoy to be pleased with her and craved his attention and approval. If he just looked at her or smiled, she was over the moon with joy. When Rose noticed that he liked spending his free time in the library, she started reading in the evenings too, time and again asking him to explain a difficult paragraph or an unknown word. 

Mr. Malfoy, who usually was quite impatient with boys, always treated her with kindness, as if he was her father. She couldn’t understand why, but this offended her. Rose didn’t want the man to see her as his surrogate daughter, she wanted him to admire her and do things that she couldn’t even imagine yet.  
As the time passed and she learned more about what happens between a man and a woman behind the closed door of their bedroom, her fantasies became more detailed, leaving her aching and longing for a touch, a kiss, a caress… Eventually Rose learned how to pacify this desire but it never was enough, she always wanted more. 

One evening at Malfoy Manor, when Mr. Malfoy wasn’t home, she was strolling around the huge library and suddenly stumbled upon a small bookcase she hadn’t noticed before. It was so cleverly hidden in the wall, that you could only see it when the door was open. 

Almost instantly, Rose realized that this was where Mr. Malfoy kept his “adult” books. He had forgotten to lock it! 

With trembling hands, she snatched the thickest book and gasped when it opened on the place where the bookmark was. Then she frowned perplexedly, studying the moving drawing on the page, which depicted a naked couple. The woman was kneeling on all fours with her bum up in the air, and the man was behind her with his face buried in her… in her… 

“Yikes! Do people really do that?! That’s _disgusting!”_ exclaimed she, shuddering with disgust.

“Just what do you think you’re doing in here, young lady?” a stern male voice suddenly asked over her shoulder. 

Letting out a little squeal, Rose dropped the book and spun around. Mr. Malfoy was standing right behind her, although she hadn’t heard him approach, and he was looking at her with raised eyebrows and an annoyed expression. 

“Mr. Malfoy! I… I was…” Rose looked around wildly, trying to come up with an explanation but failing miserably, “just reading something…” she finished lamely, blushing a bright shade of red.

“Well, I suggest you read something else,” the wizard replied coldly. “These books are not for children. Which you knew perfectly well, seeing that they are kept in a hidden bookcase.”

“I’m not a child,” mumbled Rose, looking down at her feet.

“Excuse me?”

“I am not a child!” she repeated angrily. “I’m fifteen!”

He looked amused then. 

“Is that so? I’m sure that Britain’s lawmakers would disagree. As you must know, you will be considered an adult after turning seventeen. Then, and only then, you’ll have free access to such literature. Now go to your room and be thankful that I am not going to punish you for your nosy behavior.”

At these words, a picture flashed through Rose’s mind – Mr. Malfoy sitting on the couch with her bent over his knee, spanking her bare bottom. Almost instantly she felt a rush of wetness between her thighs and she blushed furiously from head to toe. 

“May I go now?” she squeaked, not daring to look up, fearing that he would read her thoughts. 

“You may.”

Rose fled the library, trying not to look back, but as she was closing the door she couldn’t help but notice a bewildered expression on Mr. Malfoy’s face.

Later, lying in her bed, she couldn’t help thinking about the explicit picture. If Mr. Malfoy had put a bookmark there, did it mean that he liked doing that to women? Were women supposed to do the same? And if so, did he like it as well? 

The next day Rose felt relief to learn that Mr. Malfoy had gone away on business. She didn’t think she could face him ever again after what had happened the night before.

During the evening’s dinner, a very unpleasant scene occurred.

“Mum, where’s dad?” asked Scorpius with his mouth full of food. Unlike her husband, Mrs. Malfoy didn’t care at all about kids’ table manners, but that didn’t make the dinner atmosphere any better, because the woman was always in a dark mood.

“I don’t know, nor do I care,” answered she coldly, before taking a large sip of wine. 

There was a long, awkward silence after her words. Abruptly, Scorpius stood up and stormed out of the dining room. Quickly jumping from their seats, Al and Rose mumbled hurried excuses and followed their friend. When they heard the sound of hushed sobs coming from Scorpius’s room, Rose rushed to the door, but Albus stopped her.

“Leave him!” he whispered. “He needs to be alone.”

On the way to her room Rose was thinking about Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. It wasn’t a secret that their marriage was far from perfect. They rarely spoke to each other, and during meals behaved as if they were strangers. 

Noticing that his wife drank too much wine, Mr. Malfoy would give her a warning look, and she usually answered with a cold sneer. When he would tell kids that he’d be gone for a business trip, she would let out a bark of laughter and snidely wish him good luck. …That was pretty much the only kind of conversation they ever had. 

It was evident that there wasn’t love in their marriage, which Rose didn’t find surprising at all, seeing that wealthy purebloods often had their marriages arranged by their parents. Quite probably, Mr. Malfoy had never loved his wife. For some reason Rose felt great satisfaction at this thought. Somehow, she knew that she’d hate any woman who would manage to worm her way into his heart. Rose wanted it to stay free until… well, until she grew up. It was just a dream, and it filled her with guilt, because she could see how much Scorpius suffered because of his parents’ troubled relationship. But Rose couldn’t stop dreaming - now it was quite beyond her control.

***

Later that year, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy filed for divorce.

Journalists from “The Daily Prophet” and “Magique France Soir” set upon them like a pack of wolves in an instant. They discussed the failed marriage of the famous aristocrats in detail, debated about possible causes and remembered the family’s dark history. 

The Malfoys were chased by paparazzi relentlessly, and unflattering pictures of them were published in various newspapers almost every day. Readers were on cloud nine when it was revealed that Mr. Malfoy had had countless numbers of mistresses during his marriage, and, tormented by jealousy, Mrs. Malfoy tried to drown her sorrows, which caused her addiction to alcohol. 

Journalists even tried to infiltrate Hogwarts in the hope of interviewing Scorpius, and the directorate was forced to prohibit outsiders from entering the school. Unfortunately, they couldn’t stop other students from giving interviews, and Scorpius, disliked by everyone except for Rose and Al, was dragged through the mud without pity or remorse. 

Rose could see that her friend was spiraling into depression, but didn’t know how to help. He became very aggressive and was getting into fights with anyone who would joke about his parents or even just look at him funny. When Rose tried to console him, he’d snap at her or would start mocking her with malicious glee. 

Albus, on the other hand, tried to help Scorpius by supporting him in everything. Together, they would pick fights, play cruel pranks on other students, escape into the Forbidden Forest, and give cheek to the teachers. 

They were causing so much trouble that Slytherin was losing points with lightning speed, and, as a result, everyone in the House hated their guts.  
Fearing that the boys could be expelled from the school, Rose did everything she could to prevent that from happening. She would do their homework, write their assignments, and help them to pass their tests. During lessons, she would sit next to Albus and Scorpius to try and stop them from getting into mischief. She had even stooped to bribing other student not to tell on the boys. 

Several times she got caught by teachers, until finally it cost her the opportunity to become a prefect next year. That night she cried so bitterly, that Al and Scorp spent the entire evening awkwardly trying to console her while exchanging guilty looks. 

On the very next morning, during breakfast, Rose got a Howler from her parents and had to flee from the Great Hall to escape the laughter and nasty comments from the other students. 

Sobbing, she ran to the lake and hid behind a tree, so that no one would see her crying. 

Suddenly, a large, beautiful owl descended in front of her. It was Kronos – Mr. Malfoy’s personal owl. With hands trembling from emotion and excitement, she opened the letter and started reading:

_“My little red Rose,_

_I cannot express my gratitude enough for supporting my son during this difficult time. He is very lucky to have such great friends, as you and Albus. I can only imagine how many times you have had to get them out of trouble! It is a shame that their latest escapade cost you the opportunity to become a prefect.  
I hope you will find some consolation by accepting this gift as a token of my appreciation and admiration of your courage and loyalty._

_Faithfully yours,_

_D.M.”_

Inside the envelope Rose found a small box of green velvet. 

Fingers trembling, she opened the container and gasped. Inside was the most beautiful piece of jewelry she has ever seen – an elegant gold chain with a pendulum in the shape of a rose, with a tiny ruby in the very center.

Rose admired the gift for a while before putting it on, then brought the letter to her lips and kissed the initials _“D.M”._

She smiled, feeling a warm glow as she re-read his kind words, _”my little red Rose… appreciation and admiration… faithfully yours…”_

This man… this beautiful, wonderful man was the only one who understood how much she needed support at this moment.

He was the only one who truly mattered to her.


	4. Chapter 4

After the end of their fifth year at Hogwarts, Rose, Al and Scorp spent most of the summer together. 

For the first time, the Potters invited Scorpius to stay at their place, but as soon as they had celebrated Rose’s sixteenth birthday, all three flooed to Malfoy Manor. 

Much to Rose’s disappointment, Mr. Malfoy was absent most days and never spent his nights at home. While Rose missed him greatly, Al and Scorp enjoyed their freedom. They often invited Christopher Nott and Francesco Zabini, who went to Beauxbatons, along with other guys and girls, and threw wild parties, which Rose rarely attended, being too timid to enjoy the company of strangers. 

She preferred it when the boys were staying at the Zabinis’ or the Notts’, leaving her all alone in the Manor. Lately she had become very pensive and dreamy, fantasizing obsessively about Mr. Malfoy. She would walk in the old park where the tall trees whispered mysteriously, and imagine herself as a young maiden cloistered in a castle and submerged in an enchanted sleep. …She dreamed of a man with silvery eyes visiting her under cover of darkness, admiring her, caressing her… making love to her… 

During these fantasies a heavy heat seemed to fill her deep inside, causing a sweet ache between her thighs that never seemed to go away, even after long moments in the night, when her fingers worked tirelessly to bring her to a powerful completion. 

Rose could understand that her mind and body were under siege by teenage hormones, which made her want to do things that good girls shouldn’t do. She tried hard to rise above these primitive urges, but it seemed to be the one thing she was powerless to control. 

The year prior, upon seeing how quickly her daughter was changing, how feverishly her eyes were shining at any mention of “forbidden” topics, Hermione dryly informed Rose that in Magical Britain the age of consent was 17, and expressed her hope that Rose would be wise enough to wait until that time. 

When Rose’s dad learned about this conversation, he threatened to castrate any man who’d dare to touch his little girl. “Your mother was untouched when she married me,” he told her, mentioning things that Rose hoped never to hear again for the rest of her life. “You must be as prudent as she was!” 

Grandma Molly was also terribly conservative when it came to these matters. One evening, during a family holiday, she gathered all of her granddaughters, most of whom had already finished school, and gave them a lecture about the importance of saving their virginity until marriage. According to her, only then would their marriages be enduring, their children be healthy and magically strong, and the family would be showered with blessings. Not to mention the happy husbands, who would worship them for this invaluable gift. 

“Invaluable, because no one values it anymore?” Dominique had asked sarcastically. 

Barely containing her laughter, Victoire said, “Granny, we’ve already had this conversation before, don’t you remember?” 

Before the old witch could answer, the perpetually-impatient Roxanne jumped into the conversation. “Gran, you can bestow your motivational speeches on Rose and Lily, but it’s too late for the rest of us – these cherries were popped long ago!”

At these words the girls laughed raucously, and Lily, the youngest of all, said perplexedly, “What a weird way to say it! Are there any more expressions like that?”

Roxanne, the main rebel of the family, who loved shocking people, shrugged nonchalantly, “Use your imagination. The birdie has left her nest, the pie has been baked, the clam has been hammered, the kitty has tasted her first cream cone, the witch rode her first broom…”

Rose, laughing herself silly, cried, “Wait! Wait! Let me write it down!” 

“Stop teaching children these things!” shrieked the horrified matron, looking angrily at her insolent granddaughter, who was smiling mischievously.

Bookwormish Lily, the only one who wasn’t laughing, asked curiously, “Why do so many of these expressions have gastronomic reference?”

“Maybe one day you will learn, why,” Roxanne answered dryly. “Unless you follow grandma’s advice and marry a man with backward beliefs, low self-esteem and a tiny penis. These guys are so terrified of being compared to normal men that they prefer to marry virgins. And trust me, dear, such a pathetic excuse for a man will never go down on you.”

“Go down on me?”

At this point the lecture came to an abrupt end, because the old witch began to wheeze so loudly they had to give her an antihypertensive potion.

**...**

Lying on one of chaise-longue chairs situated around the large, beautiful pool, Rose recalled that evening with a big smile on her face. A light breeze caressed her wet body and a big parasol-umbrella protected her snow-white skin from the sun. An interesting book lay in her lap and next to her an ice-cold glass of grapefruit stood on a small table. She sighed contentedly.

The only discomfort Rose felt was caused by her swim-suit, which had become too tight after just two months since purchasing it. Her body was quickly becoming more and more feminine, and Rose often caught furtive glances of schoolboys and even some adult men, looking her up and down. Despite being very shy, she always felt a wave of great pleasure in such moments. 

“You have the figure of your grandma when she was young,” aunt Ginny told once, watching her niece devouring small cream cakes one after another. “If you take care of yourself, men will worship you. If not, you’ll became as large as a barrel in just a couple of years.”

Horrified by this thought, Rose started jogging in the morning and stopped eating sweets every day. And while staying in Malfoy Manor she was often swam, which was her favorite type of physical activity. 

After reading three pages of her book, she realized she couldn’t concentrate on the plot. She closed it and placed it on the table, then she stretched out on the chaise-lounge, feeling relaxed and sleepy. 

Very soon she fell asleep, but was awoken by someone covering her with a light towle. Raising herself on her elbow, Rose brushed her matted hair away from her face. Her vision was still blurry after sleeping, but she instantly knew who was standing in front of her because of the unique smell of his cologne. 

“Good evening, Rose,” Mr. Malfoy said in a strangely flat voice. 

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy,” answered Rose, wiping her forehead. _'Why did he cover me?'_ she wondered perplexedly. _'It’s so hot, I can barely breathe!'_

“Do you know where Scorpius and Albus are?”

“They went to Zabini’s house… Or Nott’s. I am not sure.”

“I see. Then we will be dining together. Come along, my dear. It’s too late to stay outside.”

Sitting up, Rose stretched with pleasure and yawned, delicately covering her mouth with her hand. Then she looked sleepily up at Mr. Malfoy. As usual, he looked impeccable in his light suit without a single wrinkle, with his blond hair still wet from a shower and neatly brushed away from his large forehead. It made Rose want to bury her hands in his hair and ruffle it, just to ruin this perfect image.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a swim first,” she said, nodding at the pool. “It’s so hot, and I am all sweaty.”

“It will rain soon,” Mr Malfoy replied with a smile. “You should take a shower instead. Let’s go; dinner will be served in an hour.”

As she stood up, Mr Malfoy abruptly picked up her silky beach-robe and draped it around her shoulders.

“Cover yourself,” he ordered in a sharp voice which he had never used when talking to her before. 

Perplexed, Rose obediently slipped her arms through the loose sleeves and tied the sash at the waist, then took his courteously-offered arm. His body seemed tense, and the muscles under her hand were as hard as stone. 

_'He probably had a fight with one of his mistresses.'_ At this though she felt a wave of furious jealousy which astonished even herself. 

By the time dinner came, Mr. Malfoy was back to his usual self. He was joking, telling stories about his travels and asking Rose about her studies. After wishing her good night, Mr. Malfoy absolutely charmed Rose by kissing her hand. 

_'God, he is SO wonderful!'_ she thought as she returned to her room. _'I think I am in love with him. So very much in love…'_

After going to bed she tossed and turned until midnight, then decided to go down to the library and find a boring book that might help her to fall asleep.

Slipping out in her bare feet and silk nightdress, Rose quietly tiptoed downstairs, passing countless doors as she went. Even after all this time, she was still amazed by the sheer scale of the splendid Manor.

As she alighted on the second floor, Rose was suddenly surprised by an unexpected sound coming from further along the hallway. She could be mistaken, but it almost sounded like a female crying.

Curious, Rose crept towards the sound until she was brought to a halt in front of the door to Mr. Malfoy’s office. There was no mistaking the whimpering cries of a woman, coming from the other side of the door.

A terrible thought flashed through her mind. _'Is he… is he beating her?!'_ she wondered, horrified. _'Or they are having sex? …Then why is she moaning, like she’s in pain?!'_

Rose knew that she had to leave, but, as usual, her curiosity proved to be stronger than considerations of morality or discretion. With her finger, she delineated a small circle on the surface of the door and muttered the Spy incantation that her cousin George had once taught her. The charm allowed the “spy” to see through any wall or door, without the risk of being seen. She wasn’t afraid of being caught by the Ministry for the underage use of magic because Scorpius had bragged long ago that Malfoy Manor, so full of enchantments and magical objects as it was, was exempt from wandless-magic detection. 

So, without a moment’s hesitation, she peered into the hole that had appeared in the door.

A wave of heat immediately flooded through her whole body at what she saw. 

The room was illuminated by the flickering glow of two candles, leaving most of it in the darkness, but she could see the beautiful naked body of a woman, bent over the table. She was leaning heavily on her elbows with her head lowered. Long dark-red curls were falling on her face, covering it entirely. Her heavy breasts were swaying as her body moved back and forth in an effortless smooth rhythm. The man standing behind her was covered by darkness, but Rose could see his hands grasping the woman’s hips firmly, and the pale lines of his slender body, that looked as if it was carved out of ivory by a talented sculptor. 

Sounds of their lovemaking – the heavy breathing of the man, the soft moans of the woman, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, the creaking of the desk – all of it was a revelation to Rose. In her mind she could construct beautiful fantasies, but these images were always silent and indistinct, unlike the erotic scene now presented before her.

She couldn’t repress a faint moan and a shiver ran down her spine, tightening painfully the sensitive peaks of her breasts, moistening her loins... Rose felt dizzy and faint… drunk on desire… 

Suddenly, Mr. Malfoy stopped, and one of his hands went down, to his groin. With the other he squeezed the woman’s hip, silently ordering her to be still. Rose couldn’t understand what he was doing, but the woman let out a loud painful groan. Mr. Malfoy ran his hand up her back soothingly and then gently pressed on her shoulders, forcing her to lay on the table. He started moving again, but this time it seemed that the body of his partner was resisting the penetration. The man paid no mind to it. Squeezing her flesh tightly, he tilted his head back, moving faster and faster, until she tried to stop him with her hand.

“Draco, please… It hurts…” she moaned pleadingly. 

Mr. Malfoy firmly moved her hand away. “Just try to relax…” he muttered hoarsely, “and don’t forget that I _asked_ you not to talk, sweetheart.”

Rose was shocked by these words. What kind of a man could ask _that_ of his lover?! It was unthinkable! 

Very soon his movements became chaotic, almost brutal. The woman was sobbing, her body contorted with pain, her fingernails scratching the surface of the table… She screamed when Mr. Malfoy grabbed a fistful of her hair and roughly pulled her head back, forcing her back to curve at an almost unnatural angle. 

_'God, why is he so brutal?!'_ Rose thought, horrified. _'Can’t he see that she’s in pain?!'_

Unable to watch this terrible scene anymore, she closed her eyes but soon opened them again, hearing a low male groan. Mr. Malfoy was bent over his whimpering mistress, breathing laboriously as if he ran several miles. Then he stroked the woman’s back tenderly and helped her to stand up. Hugging her, he started caressing her full breasts, soft stomach and the place between her thighs. With a sigh she spread her legs and leaned against him, tilting her head back and resting it on one of his shoulders. He was caressing her tirelessly, kissing and biting gently on her neck, whispering something into her ear until she shuddered, moaning and calling his name. When she quieted down, Mr. Malfoy stepped away and lowered himself heavily in an armchair. Picking up his shirt from the floor, he wiped his face and neck, then summoned a silver cigarette case that was lying on the coffee table. 

Despite being repulsed by his brutality, Rose couldn’t help admiring him as he lounged lazily in the armchair and smoked, unabashed by his nakedness. Meanwhile the woman put on her underwear and found her wand. One wave, and her flaming red curls turned into the shining cascade of honey brown hair. Astonished, Rose stared open-mouthed at her, not quite able to believe her eyes. 

“I don’t like it when you fantasize about another woman while having sex with me, Draco,” she said quietly. 

He shrugged. “I didn’t force you.”

“You are so cruel…”

With a careless gesture Mr. Malfoy tapped the ash off his cigarette. “Then why do you always come back?”

The woman lowered her head, and Rose’s heart filled with pity when she saw tears falling down her face. 

“I love you…” she whispered.

There was a long, tense silence after her words. Abruptly stubbing out his cigarette, Mr. Malfoy looked at his mistress, who was trying and failing to muffle her sobs, her breathing coming in short gasps, her body trembling… There was no pity in his eyes, only coldness.

“Go home, Violet. Your husband must be waiting for you.”

Unwilling to hear the end of this awful conversation, Rose cancelled the Spy charm, and quickly left. 

_'If I were her, I would slap him across the face and would never come back,’_ she thought on the way back up to her room. _‘They say that the heart wants what it wants, but that doesn’t mean you have to demean yourself in such a way… But why was he so cruel, so callous? I’ve never seen Mr. Malfoy behave like that! He is always so gentle and courteous with me…'_

Suddenly she came to a halt, struck with a shocking realization. _'He was fantasizing about me! Oh god, he WANTS me! That’s why he acted so strange last evening, that’s why he made Violet to change her hair color! He wants me!'_

At this thought Rose felt as if her body was pierced with desire so _acute_ , that she had to grab the banister of the staircase to keep herself from falling. Throwing caution to the wind, she ran to her room and, taking off her knickers, fell on the bed. 

_'He wants me, he wants me, he wants me, he wants me…'_ the mere thought was enough to bring her to a violent orgasm that seemed to spread through her whole body like a Fiendfire. Unable to hold back, Rose closed her eyes and screamed his name, moaning loudly, sobbing, shuddering, feeling like she was about to die… 

Finally, the feeling of acute pleasure abated, leaving her weak as a kitten. With a shaking hand Rose wiped her forehead, wet with perspiration, and whispered, “Oh god…” 

Her eyelids fluttered open and she nearly screamed. 

There, at the end of her bed, a male figure was standing still, watching her from the shadows. Although he was almost obscured by darkness, Rose instantly recognized the tall, slender silhouette, the pale hair and gleaming silver eyes.

For a long moment she simply stared up at the master of the Manor, unable to move or speak, completely paralyzed by an agony of shame, exhaustion and terror. Then somehow her numb, shaking hands grappled to pull the hem of her silky nightdress down over her bare thighs and she curled to one side, wishing vaguely she were dead.

“In the morning you’re going home.” His voice was impassive, but her sixth sense told Rose that he was shocked by what he had seen.

“Okay…” she whispered in a barely audible voice. A hot tear scalded her cheek and fell to the pillow she was clutching.

He turned around and moved to the door

“Mr. Malfoy…”

His footsteps stopped and Rose lifted her head to look at him beseechingly.

“May I come n-next summer?” she asked, her voice husky with painful emotion. “I will be s-seventeen…”

“I don’t sleep with schoolgirls, Rose.”

“I will be seventeen…” she repeated quietly. “P-please… I… I _want_ you…”

Without replying, Mr. Malfoy turned and left the room, gently closing the door behind him. 

Falling on her back, Rose covered her face with her hands and groaned. The feeling of embarrassment and humiliation was unbearable… he had seen everything, every shameful detail of her wanton desire...

The only thing that prevented her from melting down into total despair was the incredible realization that Mr. Malfoy reciprocated this desire. He wanted her. He wanted her just as she wanted him. Why else did he order his mistress to change her hair to look just like Rose’s? Why else had he sneaked in to her room to watch her? … No, he wasn’t sending her home early because he was disgusted by her but because he was tempted by her. 

Well, next year she wouldn’t be a “school-girl” anymore. She would show this man just how grown up she really was. The need to possess him seemed to be getting stronger with every passing second and her desire for him was quickly turning into an unguided obsession…


	5. Chapter 5

During her sixth year at Hogwarts, Rose often remembered her last conversation with Mr. Malfoy. She was tormented by doubts – could she trust this man? 

It seemed as if there were two people inside him. One, a refined gentleman with flawless manners, who had charmed her when she was just a small child. The other one, a cold and cynical man, who could hurt a woman without a moment’s hesitation. 

Would he treat her this way as well?

 _‘He won’t…’_ a hopeful little voice whispered inside her head – but this voice was the one that made her do the most reckless and wild things.

 _‘You cannot be sure, you barely know this man!’_ angrily protested the prudent part of her consciousness. 

Rose was losing herself in the maze of contradictory thoughts. The only thing she knew for sure – she still desired Mr. Malfoy… desired him with passion that was frightening, even to herself.

Fantasies about him tormented her day and night. She envisioned herself bent over his office desk, like the woman called Violet had been… But in her fantasies, he was loving and gentle, pressing his body against hers, whispering tender words in her ear, telling her how strongly he desired how, how much he loved her…

Rose tried to imagine how it would feel to have him inside her but, inexperienced as she was, was unable to. For the same reason she couldn’t understand what exactly Mr. Malfoy had been doing to his lover that had made her writhe and sob in pain. Sex was supposed to be pleasurable, wasn’t it? 

Unfortunately, there was no way Rose could learn more about it, until she reached the age of adulthood. The magical world of Britain was extremely conservative when it came to these matters, to the point that even the access to sex education books was strictly forbidden to teenagers not yet of age. 

Despite being considered a progressive woman, Rose’s mother also had ridiculously backward beliefs about sex. She was very reluctant to discuss any sex-related topics with her underage daughter, believing that it could fuel her interest in “carnal” activities. 

So, Rose’s knowledge on the subject was quite limited, gleaned only from the few romantic novels she had read and the giggling whispers of her friends, equally inexperienced as she. Mr. Malfoy on the other hand… she was sure that he knew _everything_ about sex. After all, he was a handsome, rich, and self-assured man, which (judging by the number of lovers he’d had) women found extremely alluring. It seemed as if they were attracted to him like months to a flame. 

Rose was tormented by jealousy whenever she saw pictures of him with various gorgeous women in the newspapers. They seemed to be the embodiment of perfection, each one surpassing her in beauty, elegance and refinement. They all resembled graceful, poised, purebred cats, and, compared to them, Rose felt like an uncultivated, backyard kitten. 

_‘Dear god, and I OFFERED myself to him!’_ she thought, mortified. _‘Mr. Malfoy probably laughs his head off every time he remembers that! …But then why did he make Violet change her hair color to match mine? …Oh, what does it matter?! It was just a momentary whim, nothing more! God, is there a greater fool in this world than me?! Stupid, stupid, stupid!’_

But her sixth sense told Rose that she was wrong. Or, at least, _not quite_ right. He did want her that night, there couldn’t be any doubt about that. Besides, she knew that she was attractive… very attractive. She was receiving more and more admiring glances, not just from many schoolboys but even from the young Defense teacher, who tried hard not to look at her during lessons but who stammered and reddened whenever she asked him a question. 

She had the delicate facial features of her aunt Ginny and the famously-voluptuous figure of a young Grandma Molly, in the days before she had become “as large as a barrel” as Aunt Ginny had put it. Unfortunately, Rose also inherited her grandma’s predisposition to be overweight, so she had to work hard to stay in shape. Every morning she got up at 5.30 am and went for an hour-long jog, and every evening she worked out in the school gym or swam in the pool. During meals, which in Hogwarts were always pretty heavy, she tried to keep away from all high-calorie foods and ate only salads, white meat and fruit. 

“Why do you limit yourself so much?” asked her perplexed classmates. 

“Because I want to be healthy,” Rose answered firmly.

 _‘Because I want HIM to like me,’_ she thought to herself. 

Indeed, the uncontrollable desire to win Mr. Malfoy’s affection was the only thing that fueled her will. Now Rose was glad that she had lost the opportunity to become a prefect, because she simply wouldn’t have time to combine the countless prefect duties with her studies and sport activities.

Instead of wasting her pocket money on sweets and nonsense, she started saving it up and spending it on elegant clothes, makeup and skin care products, hoping that it would help her to attract Mr. Malfoy’s attention. 

“You’ve become very vain, Rose,” her mother said disapprovingly, when Rose was visiting the family during the Christmas holidays. “I hope you put as much effort into your studies, as you do into your appearance.”

“I know that it’s beyond your comprehension, mum,” Rose snapped, annoyed, “but it actually IS possible to study well, without looking as if a horde of hippogriffs has run over you!”

“Am I supposed to see myself in this flattering image?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. 

“You can think whatever you want,” Rose retorted, “but I must tell you that no one wants to see a woman who looks as if she has never heard of a hairbrush, as the Minister of Magic! So, if you want to satisfy your insatiable ambitions, maybe you should put some effort into YOUR appearance, instead of criticizing mine!” 

After that heated conversation, her mother didn’t talk to Rose for a week. Her aunties, on the other hand, supported her in everything. 

“Don’t pay any mind to your mum, darling,” aunt Ginny said to her. “Goodness knows, I love Hermione like a sister, but her taste leaves much to be desired.”

Aunt Fleur also took her niece’s side. “Eet’s true!” she said. “Men are extremely superficial, zey are not going to fall in love with your rich inner world!” She tossed her head, causing her hair to shimmer alluringly, and Rose felt a pang of envy at the part-Veela’s ageless beauty. “Zey want zeir women to look desirable, so zat other males will turn green with envy, looking at zem!”

On her seventeenth birthday Rose received a set of beautiful, lacy lingerie from Aunt Ginny and a small bottle of ridiculously-expensive French perfume from Aunt Fleur. As usual, her cousins gave her clothes, books and makeup. Finally, her practical mother gave Rose a box with five tiny bottles of contraceptive potion and a book entitled, “Everything Young Wizards & Witches Should Know About Sex.”

“I know that all my admonitions will be for naught,” Hermione told her daughter with dry sarcasm, “but do me a favor and at least try to be prudent. I don’t want to deal with a teenage pregnancy or an STD.” 

Rose giggled, hugging her mum. “I just knew you’d give me an educational book! Thanks, mummy!”

“You’re welcome. But for god’s sake, make sure that your dad knows nothing, or he’ll kill the both of us!”

On the day after her birthday, Rose was almost sick with worry, not knowing whether Mr. Malfoy had allowed Scorpius to invite her to Malfoy Manor.

Upon receiving a letter from her friend, in which Scorp promised to pick her up at seven P.M., she squealed in delight and started hurriedly packing her clothes. By the time evening came, Rose was all set, beautiful summer dress accentuating her curves, flaming hair falling down her back and her face alight with excitement. As soon as she opened the front door, Albus gave her a bear hug. 

“Happy birthday, lil’ sis!” he gave her a big sloppy kiss on the cheek before letting her go. “Well, look at you! Seventeen at last! Now we can hit the bars together, getting wasted and causing trouble!”

Rouse laughed joyfully, looking at her handsome cousin with adoration. “I think YOU guys will be getting wasted, and I’ll be the one to take you home every night!”

“Sweetheart, that’s precisely why we’re going to drag you to the bars in the first place!”

“Get out of the way, Al! Let me say hello to the lady!” Scorpius pushed his friend away jokingly before bringing Rose’s hand to his lips, making her giggle. “Ma chère mademoiselle, your beauty knows no bounds! I am absolutely charmed!” he looked her up and down with an approving smile on his face. “I can see you are all ready to hunt for featherless bipeds… Do you have anyone in mind? We can invite the lucky guy on the Friday party.”

Rose blushed a bright shade of red. If he only knew _for whom_ she was going to hunt! 

“Of course – because the only reason why women dress up is to attract men!” she said sarcastically, trying to hide her discomfiture. “The size of the male ego will never cease to amaze me!”

“It is surpassed only by the size of female vanity,” answered the blond smart-ass, winking at her. 

“No really, Rose, do you like anyone?” asked Albus, looking at her curiously. “You never date and barely even talk to guys… It’s like you don’t even notice they exist! For so long I had been preparing to do my brotherly duty, guarding your virginity with my life, and all for naught!”

“My virginity is not your problem, Al!” muttered Rose, annoyed. “Mind your own business!”

“Hmm… So, the little flower is still untouched…” Scorpius said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. 

Rose looked at him with surprise and suddenly laughed. “Yeah, don’t worry. The birdie is waiting in her nest, the pie is still baking, and the poor kitten is about to starve to death without her cream cone!” 

The guys gawked at her with opened mouths, not quite believing their ears, and Rose couldn’t help laughing at their flabbergasted expressions. “Never mind! Roxy is a bad influence on me. Let’s go!”

She marched over to the fireplace, leaving it to the guys to carry her huge suitcase.

“I can see our help is urgently needed,” said Scorpius, looking at his friend amusedly. “We cannot let the poor kitten starve to death.”

Albus groaned as if in pain. “Please DO NOT talk to me about my cousin’s kittens! I’ll have nightmares for the rest of my life!”

*******

As soon as Albus and Scorpius decided to help their friend with her “little problem”, they hit the ground running. They dragged Rose to bars and clubs and threw wild parties every other night. Rose met so many boys that her head span when she tried to remember their names. To her, they all looked alike and each one had some flaw – one was too unattractive, another one was too stupid, the third one too boorish and so on, and so forth. But all of them shared a single major flaw – none of them was Mr. Malfoy.

After spending two weeks at Malfoy Manor without seeing its master even once, Rose, unable to restrain herself any longer, asked Scorpius about his father one evening at dinner.

Scorp shrugged indifferently as he filled his plate with food. “He’s in Vienna and, hopefully, will stay there for the rest of the summer.”

“Is he there for business?”

“Yeah. But apparently he’s very good at combining business with pleasure. Just yesterday one of my Austrian friends sent me a newspaper article that described how, after dining with some bird, father spent two hours with her in his hotel room and then threw her out in tears, dressed only in her underwear. I swear, things are totally topsy-turvy in our family! It should be me, the young heir, appearing in scandalous press articles and bringing disgrace upon the family, while my father berates me and threatens to cut me out of the inheritance!” 

“Your best days are still ahead of you, mate!” said Albus, ‘consolingly’ patting his friend’s shoulder. 

Rose wasn’t listening to the conversation – staring down at her plate, she tried to fight back her tears. _‘God, I am such an idiot!’_ she thought bitterly. _‘I starve myself and work my arse off, trying to stay in shape, every morning waste more than an hour primping up, in the hope of seeing him, and he doesn’t even remember I exist! Every fucking night I lie in my bed alone, like a good little virgin, and fantasize about him, while he spends HIS nights having fun with these… these HARLOTS!’_

At these thoughts Rose found herself burning with anger and an irrational desire for revenge, that was quickly spiraling out of control. _‘Alright, Mr. Malfoy! If you don’t want me, it’s your loss! There are TONS of guys who do, and tonight I’m going to find one of them! Tonight, I’ll have fun as well!’_

“Well, let’s fix the situation right away!” she cried with a huge fake smile on her face. “Let’s hit the club and make sure that by tomorrow morning Scorpius’s name is all over the front pages! If that doesn’t help, nothing will!” 

“Are you serious?!” Scorpius asked, with a doubtful smile. “Just last night we practically had to beg you to join us, and now this?!”

“Of course I’m serious!” Rose replied. “It’s Friday night, after all! Are you going to just stay at home like a couple of old farts?!”

“No way!” cried Albus indignantly. “I am a party animal, not some old fart!” 

Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Scorpius stood up. “Let’s do it. It’s time to prove that I can be as good at trashing family’s name as my beloved father is.”

Very soon the three of them were joined by Nott and Zabini with their girlfriends and a bunch of guys and girls from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons. They chose the hottest club in the magical part of London, which was harder to infiltrate than the Department of Mysteries. Thankfully, the names “Potter” and “Malfoy” could open any door, so in just a couple of minutes after their arrival, the young people were ordering drinks and shouting across one another, over the booming music. 

“Here, take it,” said Albus, shoving a drink into Rose’s hand. “It’s a Cosmo, you’ll love it. Hey, guys, who ordered gin and tonic? Here’s your Absinthe, Nott! What’s your poison, girls? ...”

Finally, everyone had their drinks.

“Here’s to seeing our drunk faces all over the front page of “The Prophet” tomorrow!” Scorpius yelled over the noise. “Bottoms up!”

After his words there were excited screams, laughter, the sound of clinking glasses and someone’s loud “Hurray!” And the night started, wild and filled with alcoholic frenzy and animalistic debauchery. 

Rose was drinking as much as her friends were, laughing hysterically and dancing dissolutely. She was _delighted_ seeing the undisguised lust in the eyes of the unfamiliar guys who surrounded her, like a bunch of hungry wolves, salivating over a piece of juicy flesh. 

For the first time in her life she felt confident in her sexuality and for the first time she was completely uninhibited. Someone’s hands were pawing her body, squeezing her breasts and bottom, making her respond with pleasure that was quickly turning into an uncontrollable need to satisfy her craving. Not even caring about who the man groping her was, she wanted him to press her against a wall and… no, not “take” but _fuck_ her, right here and now, right in front of everyone. 

Rose knew she was acting wantonly, but in this wild place everyone was behaving in the same lecherous way: taboos and considerations of morality were nonexistent. 

She could see Albus insistently pulling a drunk blonde girl towards the restrooms. Scorpius, dancing with a pretty, dark-haired woman, looked as if he were trying to shove his tongue down her throat. Nott and his girlfriend were kissing passionately, her hand on his groin, his hand underneath the hem of her ultra-short dress… Rose felt like she was drowning in the debauched, drunken atmosphere surrounding her, not caring about consequences, not caring about anything… 

At four A.M. the entire company went back to Malfoy Manor, because Scorpius was the only one smart enough to bring a Portkey. The instant they arrived, he and Albus went upstairs with the girls they had met at the club. Very soon other guests disappeared as well, leaving Rose alone with Alberto, an Italian friend of Scorpius. 

Smiling suggestively at her, Alberto said something in Italian, and she giggled drunkenly, not understanding a single word. His smile widened, then suddenly his hot body was pressing against hers, his full lips a hair’s breadth from hers… 

They kissed. He tasted like alcohol and reeked of tobacco smoke, but that didn’t stop Rose from wanting him, because at this moment she simply wanted any man who could quench her burning lust. He was whispering something into her ear, pulling her somewhere, until the backs of her legs touched the edge of a couch. Immediately she found herself lying on the soft surface with the large male figure bending over her in the darkness… 

Suddenly, her heart was pierced by the needle of instinctive fear, and Rose realized that she didn’t want to give her virginity to a drunken stranger, whose name she had learned only a couple of hours ago. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” she muttered, raising herself on her elbow. 

Murmuring something reassuringly, the Italian pressed her firmly back down on the couch.

“No. I don’t want to do this!” Rose said loudly and clearly, hoping that he’d understand this time. But when she tried to rise up again, the young man once more forced her back down. 

Bewildered and annoyed, Rose gave his shoulder a rough push. “Let me go, you idiot!”

In the next moment, Rose was crushed beneath the heavy, male body. Instantly, a paralyzing fear swept through her like a tidal wave, making her freeze, but a second later she began to resist, wriggling like a wildcat, trying to free herself and throw him off her body. 

There was the sound of ripping fabric, and Rose’s dress was roughly torn and pulled off her shoulders, along with the bra, baring her heaving chest. 

Rose shrieked, terrified beyond belief, but in an instant a large, sweaty palm slapped over her mouth, silencing her, as the other one started squeezing her breasts painfully. Animalistic panic gripped her heart in a tight fist. She started fighting with all her might, scratching his hand, clawing and hitting at his face, but the man on top of her was so strong, so much stronger than she… 

Panting with effort, the man jerked at her knees to forcefully spread her legs, then settled his weight heavily upon her, crushing her, squeezing the air out of her chest... Then she felt his fingers pulling her knickers aside and penetrating her in one rough push, causing an acute, unexpected pain. 

Furiously thrashing and squirming beneath him, Rose managed to twist her head, then sank her teeth into his hand so hard, that the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. With a yelp he jerked his hand back, and Rose screamed as loudly as she could, but his large fingers wrapped around her throat, cutting off her desperate cries, unheard by anyone but herself and her rapist. 

Exhausted by the futile struggle, Rose could only whimper helplessly as she felt his erection pressing against her resisting flesh, harder and harder…

Suddenly the crushing weight lifted as someone jerked the rapist off her body in one powerful movement. Sounds of fists hitting flesh, the sickening crunch of breaking bones, an inhumane scream – all of it was registered in her brain as if through a fog. Paralyzed by shock, Rose gasped for air, trying to force it though her spasming throat, darkness creeping at the edge of her vision… Then she felt the reassuring pressure of a gentle hand on her chest and heard a low male voice, murmuring something…

“Don’t try so hard, dear… Breathe slowly… In and out… In and out… Yes… That’s right… Don’t cry, little Red, you’re safe now... I am here… Don’t cry…”

When the fog cleared from her vision, Rose’s eyes met the face dearest in the world to her – the face of Mr. Malfoy. With a strangled whimper she scrambled into his lap, throwing her arms around him, as she pressed her face against the crook of his neck, holding onto him as if her life depended on it, her body shaking violently.

“Th-thank you… Th-thank you…” she sobbed, “G-god, I was s-so f-frightened… He was s-so heavy, I c-couldn’t t-throw him off… I am s-such a f-fool… D-did it on p-purpose… Wanted to t-take r-revenge on you… S-such a _fool!_ …” Rose hardly knew what she was saying, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that Mr. Malfoy was holding her in his arms, that his hand was running soothingly up and down her back, that his voice was whispering tenderly into her ear… 

Of what followed, she retained only partial memories – Mr. Malfoy carrying her somewhere, bathing her in warm water, putting her to bed…

_…“Do you hurt anywhere? No? …You should answer me, Rose… Does it hurt here?” his hand is pressing gingerly on her stomach, right above the edge of curly red hair._

_“It hurts down there,” she whines, even though the pain abated long ago. She wants him to touch her, to console her and to need her as much as she needs him…_

_He slowly spreads her legs, as if afraid to scare her, but Rose is not afraid. Not of him. Never of him. …He bends down, and she feels no shame when his slender fingers gently pull the delicate folds of her flesh apart…_

_“It’s alright, dear. The pain will disappear soon,” the relief in his voice is evident, and Rose realizes just how much he feared that she had been hurt._

_Then Mr. Malfoy brings a potion to her lips and holds her head as she drinks…_

_“Don’t leave me!” she pleads in a small, frightened voice, weakly grasping his hand._

_He tenderly squeezes her fingers. “I won’t…”_

_Warm lulling darkness is embracing her, but Rose feels no fear, because as long as Mr. Malfoy’s hand is holding hers, there’s nothing to fear. He will protect her. He will take care of her. And maybe… maybe one day he will love her…_


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, Rose woke up well past midday. 

There was a small bottle of Anti-Hangover potion sitting on the bedside table, and she gulped it down immediately, barely managing to hold the bottle in her shaking hand. Almost instantly the fog clouding her brain disappeared, and she was flooded by the memories from last night. The feeling of shame that followed was so terrible, she wished she were dead.

_‘No wonder he tried to… God, I feel so ASHAMED!’_ she shuddered with revulsion, remembering Alberto’s sweaty palms touching her body in places where only one man had the right to touch her… _‘And Mr. Malfoy saw me like that! Drunk, reeking of cigarettes, my clothes all torn…my face a complete mess of tears and snot!’_

With an anguished moan she buried her face in the pillow, squeezing it so tightly that her fingers hurt. _‘What he must think of me now?! How much he must despise me! God, how could I do it?! How could I DO it?!’_

She recalled grandmas Molly’s words of warning, when, dead drunk on spiced Christmas punch, the old lady had lectured her grand-daughters about bad behavior. _“If you behave like a slut, you’ll be treated like a slut,”_ she had told them, slurring her words and wagging her fingers at them.

_‘That’s what Mr. Malfoy must be thinking of me now,’_ thought Rose in despair. _‘Serves me right. I must pack my things and leave before he sees me. And never darken his door again…’_

At these thoughts, great anguish gripped her heart. For so long she had been fantasizing about this man, working so hard to become more like one of those sophisticated women whom he chose as his lovers… All for naught. Because of one single stupid mistake…

With tears running freely down her face, Rose staggered out of bed to the shower, where she stood under a burning-hot stream of water for almost an hour, trying to wash off the disgusting feeling of another man’s hands, touching her… Then, not even bothering to towel her hair dry, she donned her bath-robe and returned to the bedroom. The streams of sunlight, spilling through the large window, made it look so cheerful, that the contrasting darkness inside Rose’s soul became even more unbearable. 

Exhausted by her sorrow, she sat on the edge of her bed, staring into space, feeling like a toy, damaged beyond repair.

When someone knocked at the door, Rose didn’t answer, hoping that whoever it was would just go away. She didn’t want to see anyone, especially not him.

Without warning, the door suddenly swung open, and immediately Rose’s senses were flooded by the unique smell of him, that had haunted her dreams every single night.

“I thought, you were still asleep…” Mr. Malfoy said quietly, slowly approaching her, as if she were a frightened animal.

Rose lowered her head, hiding her tear-stained face behind her tangled hair. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked after a long, silent pause. 

Instead of answering, she hugged herself, trying to hide from his attentive gaze. For the first time in her life, she wished he were gone. When he lowered himself on the edge of the bed, so close that Rose felt the beautiful heat of his body, she tensed.

“Rose, please… Look at me...”

She shook her head. 

“I am truly sorry that such a terrible thing happened to you.” His voice was a soft, caressing murmur. “I wish I had come sooner, before that animal caused you any pain...” 

“It’s all my fault,” Rose whispered, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her robe. “If I hadn’t behaved like such a…such a slut, he never would have tried to…” she faltered, knowing that one more word and she’d burst into tears again. 

“Don’t say that, little one,” the older wizard replied softly. “Women have the right to behave however they want. It doesn’t make them immoral or flawed. It also doesn’t give men the right to use force. You did nothing wrong.”

It took a moment for his words to truly sink in. Rose lifted her head, her wide, blue eyes meeting his silver ones, her heartbeat jumping wildly. “You really think so?” she asked.

Mr Malfoy smiled kindly, lifting his hand to brush a sodden strand of hair from her eyes. “I do.”

Rose gulped. “You mean… you mean you don’t despise me?”

“Despise you?!” he repeated, sounding genuinely astonished, “Gods, of course not! Why would you even think such a thing?!” But then his expression changed, becoming sterner. “…On the other hand, it doesn’t mean that I approve of your behavior. You shouldn’t have been alone with a drunk man. Promise me that you’ll be more cautious in future.”

Rose let out a heavy sigh. “I will… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget what happened…” then she looked at him with a shy smile that brightened her entire face. “Thank you for saving me, Mr. Malfoy. I dread to think of what might have happened, if you weren’t there…”

“I dread to think of that too,” Mr Malfoy said. “You know nothing about men, Rose. Please, remember not to trust them too easily anymore.” 

“I know _you,_ ” Rose answered, looking at him with undisguised adoration. “And I think you are wonderful!”

Mr. Malfoy gave her a sharp, penetrating gaze.

“No,” he said so seriously, that Rose felt the smile slipping off her face. “You don’t.”

He arose from the bed, ignoring her bewildered, questioning expression.

“Don’t worry about that bastard,” he muttered rather darkly. “He’ll never touch a woman again. With or without her consent.”

Shocked, Rose stared at the man with an open mouth, as if seeing something dangerous and disturbing in him for the first time. “You… you mean… you _cursed him?!_ ” she stammered.

Mr. Malfoy smiled amusedly at her astonished countenance. “That’s exactly what I mean,” he said calmly. “When it comes to dealing with people who hurt those I hold dear to my heart, I am a ruthless man.”

At these words, an involuntary shiver of fear ran down Rose’s back, but at the same time she couldn’t help a huge smile spreading over her face. She was _dear_ to him! Mr. Malfoy had just said that she, Rose, was dear to him! It seemed that nothing, nothing in the world could make her happier.

Suddenly, Mr Malfoy’s expression became serious again. “I will understand if you want to leave after what happened,” he said. “But you should know that I don’t mind you and Albus staying until the end of the summer. Malfoy Manor seems too quiet and empty without your boisterous company.”

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” whispered Rose, overwhelmed by the feelings of love and gratitude she felt for this man. “I’d love to stay. And I am sure that Albus would love that as well.”

He smiled, and there was a strange, soft expression in his beautiful eyes, which made her heart beat faster.

“I am glad to hear that, little Red,” he said, a tender note in his voice. “Now I should excuse myself. There are two hung-over boys in this house who are in an urgent need of a thorough reprimand.” 

She couldn’t hold back a laugh, despite feeling pity for her friends. “You haven’t given them the Anti-Hangover potion?” she asked, with great amusement.

He winked at her conspiratorially. “I certainly did not. It will serve them both right.”

When Mr. Malfoy left, Rose collapsed on the bed, her heart beating in a painfully fast, excited rhythm. Such a rapid transition from deep despair to wild elation was confusing, but the older wizard had always had this incredibly powerful effect on her. In his presence she didn’t know a single moment of calm, her thoughts and emotions were in constant disarray – but that didn’t matter, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, his affection was the only thing that mattered to her...

*******

Rose spent the following week lurching from one emotional extreme to another.

She was either joking and laughing, or staying in her room for hours on end, lying in her bed and crying, crushed by feelings of shame, anger or even hatred towards the man who nearly raped her. 

Mr. Malfoy didn’t tell the Scorpius and Albus about what happened to her, so the guys were amused by her sudden moodswings, assuming they were the result of PMS.

“When you finally get a boyfriend, we’ll advise him to lay low for a couple of days every month. No man should endure this,” Scorpius joked one evening, after a gloomy Rose snapped at him for teasing her.

“I hope that Susie doesn’t have such terrible PMS! Or I’ll have to lay low as well!” Albus said, shuddering as if in horror.

Susie was the blond girl he had met at the club. Since that evening, Albus had been walking around with a dreamy expression and an idiotic smile on his face, writing tons of letters and disappearing every single night. One didn’t have to be a genius to understand that he was deeply in love, or at least believed himself so.

Scorpius rolled his eyes at his friend’s words. “Yes, yes, we all already know that things are serious between you two. Eternal love and all that. Could you please stop dropping her name into every single conversation?!”

Mr. Malfoy, on the other hand, knew perfectly well what was happening to Rose.

“Eventually it will pass,” he told her once, when they were walking together in Malfoy Manor’s beautiful park. “Your last year of Hogwarts is about to start, and you’ll be very busy, studying for N.E.W.T.s… Hopefully, it will distract you from these awful memories. However, I must warn you that the process of healing from such a shock can be quite long. I’ve known women who suffered from severe depression as a result of being violated. Promise that you’ll write me, if that happens to you.”

“You are so kind…” whispered Rose, fighting back tears. “But you never explained how you managed to appear right in time to save me.”

“Oh… Well, the explanation is quite simple. I was alerted by my house elves, and immediately used the emergency portkey to get home. As you know, nowadays house elves are forbidden from using magic on humans, unless it’s for their own protection or the protection of their masters – that’s why they couldn’t help you.”

“How come they didn’t alert Scorpius or Albus instead?”

Mr. Malfoy pursed his lips tightly, and Rose shivered, seeing the expression of barely restrained fury on his face, which so rarely expressed strong emotions.

“Apparently, my idiot son ordered the house-elves not to bother him or his guests that night. If I hadn’t wished him to remain ignorant about what happened to you, he would not have got away with a simple scolding.”

“I am glad you didn’t tell them,” Rose said quietly, lowering her head. “I wouldn’t want anyone to know about this.”

“Not even your mother?” he asked, looking at her curiously.

Rose gave a short, bitter laugh. “ _Especially_ not my mother! She’d go crazy and would probably force me to see a specialist, or attend support groups and all that. Not to mention that she’d blame me for everything.”

He frowned, and Rose felt his arm tightening underneath her palm. 

“Yes, victim blaming is still common in our society, particularly when the victims are women, as ridiculous as that sounds. …That is a shame, especially seeing that muggles are progressing much faster than the wizarding world, when it comes to these matters. Your mother should know better.”

She looked up at him, surprised once and again by just how different this man was from everyone else she knew. “But you are not like that,” she said with a shy smile.

“You’re right, I am not,” the wizard replied. “Not to mention that I’d never be able to blame you for anything. You are one of the purest souls, I’ve ever met.”

At these words Rose couldn’t help laughing aloud. He looked down at her with a questioning expression, raising one eyebrow, as if asking what had she found so funny about his words. 

“You wouldn’t say that if you could glimpse into my soul… or at least into my thoughts!” she said with another giggle. “Sometimes I even terrify myself with the things that enter my head!”

Mr Malfoy smiled then, evidently amused. “Let me be the judge of that, little Red.”

A beautiful, warm glow filled Rose’s heart at his softly-spoken endearment. “You are too kind to me,” she answered with a sad sigh. “I am not even sure that I deserve it…”

Stopping suddenly, Mr. Malfoy turned her to face him, gently holding her shoulders. His expression was serious, but at the same time very tender. “You deserve that and much more, Rose,” he told her. “Never sell yourself short, especially to men. I hope one day you will find someone who will truly appreciate you, not only for your beauty, but also for your kind heart and soft nature; someone who will be able to protect you. You are too trusting and emotional for your own good, and there will be people in your life who will try to use that against you, and will hurt you badly in doing so…”

Rose didn’t hear his words, because a sudden pain gripped her heart so strongly that she could barely breath. _‘I don’t want anyone, but you!’_ her mind was screaming desperately. _‘I need YOU and only you! I love you! I love SO much!’_

A slight frown marred Mr. Malfoy’s handsome features. He was looking at her so intently, that she felt the urge to hide from his shrewd gaze. With horror, Rose realized that somehow he guessed exactly what her thoughts were.

Trembling, she took his courteously offered arm, and they continued their walk, but this time there was an uncomfortable, tense silence between them.

“I want you to explain me something,” Mr. Malfoy said after a long pause. “That night you said that you had wanted to take revenge on me… At the time, I paid no mind to your words, because you... weren’t yourself. Now, however, I want to know what you meant by that.”

Rose bit her lip. She remembered those words, and now was cursing herself for her frankness. _‘Maybe, it’s for the best,’_ the thought flashed suddenly through her mind. _‘Maybe, if I reveal my feelings, he’ll stop seeing me as a child!’_

It was easier to talk when he wasn’t looking at her, and words poured out of her in an unrestrained torrent.

“I… I _love_ you…” she whispered, blushing a deep shade of red, “…from the very moment I saw you for the first time… And I… _want_ you so much, that it hurts me… I can’t stop thinking about it… imagining myself… with you… Any time I see your pictures with other women in newspapers, I go mad with jealousy… I _hate_ them, because they can be with you, but I can’t… That night, Scorpius told some stupid story about you and a woman, and I just… For some reason I got furious and decided to take revenge on you… for what exactly, I couldn’t understand myself… I persuaded Albus and Scorpius to go to a club… I wanted to find some guy… anyone… and… and…” 

She faltered, choked with emotions, her heart beating wildly as she awaited his reply in a torture of hope and trepidation.

Mr. Malfoy was silent for a long, long time. 

“I hope you understand that this is nothing more than a teenage crush, Rose,” he finally said. “Girls of your age often fall for older men. It will pass.”

His voice was so calm that it filled Rose with rage. Snatching her hand away, she stood before him, trembling violently and breathing heavily.

“How am I different from your other lovers?!” she cried out, barely holding back a storm of tears. “I am a woman, just like they are! I want you just as much, if not more! I am not going to pursue and bother you! I am just asking for one single night, nothing more!” As soon as the words had spilled out from her mouth, she fell silent, horrified by them. Dear god, didn’t she have any pride left?!

_‘To hell with pride!’_ she thought desperately. _‘I want him! I WANT him! For just a night, for just an hour!’_

Mr. Malfoy was gazing down at her, stunned by her outburst. Rose had never seen the wizard so astonished. But he quickly regained control of his emotions.

“You are not a woman, you are a _child_!” he said in a hard voice, that left no room for objections. “You are not in love with me, it is nothing more but a teenage obsession, a desire to have something that is forbidden. I _don’t_ sleep with schoolgirls, Rose. I _don’t_ sleep with virgins. I am not attracted or aroused by innocence. I prefer mature, experienced women, who know how to satisfy me. You don’t have the qualities that are required for that!”

“How do you know?” she whispered as a stream of scalding tears spilled down her burning cheeks. “How can you know, If we never…”

“I know!” he interrupted curtly.

Falling on a bench, Rose covered her face with her hands and began crying with great, wracking gasps, unable to bear the pain of being rejected by the only man she had ever loved.

When she quietened down a bit, Mr. Malfoy said coldly, “I don’t want your parents asking questions, and for that reason alone I will allow you to stay at my home. But from this moment on, our friendly relationship is over.” 

At this, Rose uttered a despairing cry. Then she heard Mr Malfoy add in a softer voice, “You are very naïve, Rose. One day you’ll understand me and will be thankful that I didn’t use your naivety for my own gratification, as most other men would have.”

He turned and left, without looking back. Sobbing, Rose covered her face with her hands, feeling as if her very soul was weeping her life’s blood, as if her heart was breaking into tiny pieces that could never again be reassembled. 

_‘You WILL be mine anyway, Mr. Malfoy!’_ she thought suddenly, with a passionate conviction that astonished even herself. _‘You are very much mistaken if you think that you can be rid of me so easily! I swear that one day you WILL be mine!’_

*******

For the rest of Rose’s stay at the Manor, Mr. Malfoy was mostly absent, only returning home late at night. She knew because she had spied on him a couple of times, hiding in the darkness underneath the main staircase, watching him at last emerge through the doors after everyone else had retired for bed.

An insane, reckless scheme had been formulating in her mind, and she herself was terrified by what she was planning to do. 

On the night before her departure, Rose drew a bath and, after adding a couple of drops of lavender oil, lowered herself in the hot water and closed her eyes. 

_‘This is madness,’_ she thought, her heart beating so fast that it hurt her chest. _‘I should stop, before it’s too late. He will scorn me, humiliate me, throw me away…’_

_‘So what ?!’_ another impulsive thought came. _‘I don’t care if he yells at me, if he destroys my pride… This is my last chance! I might never see him again or he might fall in love, marry again. No, it’s now or never. I MUST try, because I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t!’_

For one hour she meticulously prepared her body – washing her long, red tresses, removing unwanted hair with a depilating spell, rubbing her skin with a wisp of bast, until it became as soft as a ripe peach... Then she stood in front of the vanity mirror in her room, trying on different sets of lacy underwear, applying sophisticated makeup, arranging her hair…

“No, no! It’s all wrong!” she muttered aloud, annoyed by the result of her efforts.

Rose washed off her makeup, took off her underwear, and, after donning her plain bath-robe, exited her room with bated breath.

Mr Malfoy’s empty bedroom was dark and cool. She lit a candle, took off her robe and, entirely naked, approached the large bed, trembling, horrified beyond belief by what she was doing. Rose almost had to force herself to get in his bed. Wrapping the soft blanket around her shoulders, she hugged her knees and waited. Her heart was thumping so hard it felt as if it might escape her chest. There wasn’t a single thought in her head…only him…

The blanket retained his smell, and it made her so wet, that Rose had to press her legs together, trying to soothe the ache between them… Then she waited… and waited… and waited, feeling desperation slowly but relentlessly building up inside. What if he didn’t come? What if he was spending the night with one of his women? The mere thought made her want to scream, to pull the hair out of her head, to scratch her own face, for the pain was too strong to handle… 

Finally, _finally_ , she heard the door open. She dared not to look up. 

She heard the click of the door closing, of soft footsteps slowly approaching…

“Rose…” Mr. Malfoy’s voice was soft, _too_ soft, “you shouldn’t be here…”

“I won’t leave…” she whispered.

He didn’t answer, and, against her will, she looked at him. In the twilight of the room, his dispassionate face and eyes, reflecting the flickering candle-flames, seemed almost to belong to an ancient, magical creature. He was the immortal spirit of water who enchanted young maidens and lured them into unfathomable depths… And she was enchanted, and following his ethereal call, willingly drowning, not wishing for salvation…

Slowly, Rose lowered herself on the pillows. Mr. Malfoy’s gaze was burning her skin, the sight of his still, silent figure was filling her heart with trepidation. But she was too far gone to stop now.

“You called me a child,” she said quietly. “Look at me… Does this body remind you of a child’s body?” With one sift move she uncovered herself entirely. 

His eyes were unhurriedly caressing her full breasts, her narrow waist and sumptuous hips, her graceful legs and feminine feet with small, pink toes… 

“You are playing with fire, Rose,” he said in a warning tone, as his gaze lingered on the neatly-trimmed triangle of dark-red hair between her thighs. “Even my self-restraint has its limits.”

“Please…” she whispered breathlessly. “Just once…”

Lowering himself gracefully onto the edge of the bed, he bent slightly over her and looked into her eyes. “You do not understand what you’re asking of me, Rose.”

“I just want you to touch me…” she softly pleaded, “…to caress me… I want to give pleasure to you…”

Her heart skipped a beat as the wizard leaned on one elbow and his long body stretched out on the bed, pressing against her own body… His slender fingers gently traced the contours of her face, of her full lips… 

“You have no clue of how to pleasure me, little one,” he murmured darkly. “If you only knew what I want to do to you, to your beautiful body, you’d never have come here…”

Rose looked at him beseechingly, anguishedly, tormented by her throbbing desire which intensified a thousand times by his proximity. “Please… I _beg_ you… Help me…”

Shyly, she took his hand and drew it down to her shaking body into the darkness between her legs… He shuddered, closing his eyes, a strange expression on his face, as if he were in pain…

Then his skillful fingers started caressing the soft flesh at the apex of her legs, and Rose instinctively lifted her hips, moaning shamelessly, powerless to resist this craving anymore…

“Look at me,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes and met his dark, fathomless gaze that penetrated her very soul…

And his talented fingers kept stroking her tirelessly, making their magic, and Rose was shivering, and moaning, and sobbing, and losing herself, because somehow he knew her body better than she did, and it responded to his touch, like a flower responding to the caress of sunlight…

_‘How does he know? How does he know this about me? It’s something impossible, incredible, unimaginable…’_ The thoughts in her head were fluttering chaotically, her emotions in turmoil, her body melting like a candle burning at both ends…

_‘I can’t… I can’t take it… What are you doing to me?! Stop! Stop!’_ She was looking into his eyes, filled with dark hunger, pleading for mercy, but he was merciless as he slowly led her towards the steep cliff-edge and then pushed her over, but instead of falling to the ground, she soared to the skies, so high that she feared she might never come back down to earth…

…Rose screamed so loudly that, when she recalled it later, she was mortified with shame. 

But in that moment there was no shame, there was nothing but a bliss so beautiful and blinding that surely she must die…

And then he wrapped her in the quilt and carried her somewhere, laying her down on a bed that smelled of her perfume, and the last thing she saw was his face, hovering above her as darkness closed in and around her...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter doesn't exist in the Russian version of the story - when I started working on the translation of the next chapter I somehow ended up writing this one in English. And I must admit that I wrote it way too quickly, without putting enough effort into it, so the original text wasn't that great. My beta, The_Artful_Scribbler, did a truly amazing job redacting this chapter - she made it so much better! And I just wanted to thank her one more time for agreeing to be my beta. Thank you for all your work, my dear Artful! :)

Rose spent her seventh school-year preparing for N.E.W.T.s. 

Every week seemed to stretch in time, because she didn’t know a single moment of joy or simply of calm. Her days were filled with endless hours of studying, overlain by fear of failure and uncertainty about her future. Her nights were filled with nightmares, in which she relived, time and again, those awful moments when she had been trapped under a heavy, sweaty male body, terrified and entirely helpless. 

During these horrifying dreams, sometimes Mr. Malfoy would come and save her, as he really had done. But sometimes he wouldn’t come. Sometimes he would stand by the couch, watching her being raped with that strange, dispassionate expression on his face, which hid his emotions so well – but somehow Rose knew that he wasn’t hiding anything; he simply didn’t care enough for her to bother saving her. And then there were the times that he was the one raping her… Those nightmares were the most terrifying of all. She’d wake up, screaming and sobbing and pleading for him to stop, only to find herself in her bed, her face wet with streaming tears, her breath shuddering as she was instantly inundated by a crashing wave of great relief… 

During that horrible year, there wasn’t a single night when she didn’t have to cast the Imperturbable spell on her bed. The only moments when she felt happy were the ones right before falling asleep, when, in a desperate attempt to find relief from the endless stress, her brain replayed the darkly-seductive memory of what had transpired between her and Mr. Malfoy. The way he had looked at her… the way he had caressed her… the way his body, pressed against hers, had felt against her naked skin… But even that one, precious memory was pierced with anguish and tainted by sorrow, because Rose knew that it would never happen again. 

She knew this, because Mr. Malfoy had left a note on her nightstand, which she remembered by heart:

_“My dear Rose,  
_

_I wanted to wish you good luck with your N.E.W.T.s, although I know you need no luck to perform outstandingly in every one of your exams. A bright and exciting future awaits you, one which I do not doubt will bring you much happiness and great success._  
_Just remember to follow your dreams, for they will always lead you in the right direction._  


__

_Yours,  
_

_Draco Malfoy.”_

__

__

There was both a formality and a finality in that letter which filled Rose with an unbearable fear of never seeing him again.

Somehow, Rose knew that she had forced him to cross a line that he would never have crossed otherwise. And even if he wasn’t blaming _her_ for that, he was definitely blaming _himself_.

She didn’t have to look hard for reasons why Mr. Malfoy wasn’t interested in her, because they were many and all too obvious: he’d known her since she was a little girl, she was one of his son’s best friends, she was a schoolgirl… She wasn’t beautiful and sophisticated enough to be his lover, nor would she ever be. She would never… _never_ be his equal, a woman he’d truly desire, a woman he’d fall in love with… To him, she was just a silly little girl with a “teenage crush”. 

There was some bitter irony in the last words that he wrote: _“Just remember to follow your dreams, for they will always lead you in the right direction.”_ HE was her only dream, her obsession, her darkest desire… He was the only one who truly mattered to her. She needed him! She needed him so much! Sometimes Rose felt like a flower left in the dark, dying without sunlight, uncared for, forgotten by its master… But she wasn’t a flower, and Mr. Malfoy wasn’t her master. She was a human being, and he… indeed he was a dream… a sweet, unattainable dream, nothing more and nothing less. 

The looming N.E.W.T.s were the only thing that saved Rose from spiraling into deep depression. She received “Outstanding” on all of her exams, but didn’t feel particularly happy about it, just relieved that the ordeal was over. 

Finishing Hogwarts felt bittersweet. Rose attended the graduation party with a handsome guy from Ravenclaw, who had been pursuing her for a couple of weeks. Closer to the end of the party, after having drunk a couple of glasses of champagne, she allowed him to pull her into an empty classroom. He was kissing her, touching her shyly, whispering something passionately into her ear… She felt nothing. Absolutely… nothing. When his trembling fingers touched the gusset of her knickers, Rose gently pushed him away. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked in a husky voice, trying to catch his breath.

 _‘No, everything is NOT okay,’_ Rose thought bitterly, _‘nor it will ever be...’_

“I’m sorry,” she answered softly. “Just… I don’t want to do this. It’s not you, it’s…”

“Are you a lesbian or something?” he said harshly, obviously annoyed and angry, as if she had made him a promise and failed to keep it. “Or maybe you’re simply frigid, like everyone says?”

Rose stared at him, shocked by these cruel words. For some reason they cut her so deeply that her eyes welled up with tears and her lips started trembling. An expression of guilt flashed over the young man’s face, but then he shrugged, trying and failing to look nonchalant. 

“Whatever,” he mumbled, turning his back on her and heading for the door. “Your loss.”

After the door banged shut, Rose fell onto a chair, staring into space. Did people… did they _talk_ about her behind her back? Did they really think that she was frigid? She felt almost violated by these disgusting rumors. How dare they say such terrible things about her?! No one… not a single person in this entire school knew her well enough to make such assumptions. Not even Al and Scorp. She had never had a real best friend, a girl with whom she could share and discuss the intimate details of her private life, like other girls did… She had never had an actual boyfriend or even a lasting admirer. Hell, she had never had _anyone_ , who’d been truly close to her…

This sudden realization shocked Rose. God, how had it happened? How had it happened, that at the age of seventeen she was so lonely? Was there something _wrong_ with her? 

Two burning-hot tears fell down her cheeks, but Rose barely noticed them, lost in her mirthless thoughts. There was only one thing wrong with her – _him_. Since the very first moment she saw Mr. Malfoy, her entire life had been revolving around him. Nothing else and nobody else mattered to her. He was like a warm caressing flame, glowing somewhere far away, enticing her, calling for her… leading her astray and then disappearing like a will-o’-the wisp, leaving her all alone in this dark, dark place. And now she was just a lost little girl, not knowing where to go, what to do, or who to turn to. It seemed that there was no one at all to give her a helping hand… 

Frowning, Rose abruptly stood up and angrily wiped her tears away. She was not a little girl anymore. And she didn’t need anyone’s help. She was strong and smart, and she would find a way to live without Mr. Malfoy. 

One day he would become nothing more than a distant memory. And on that day, she would finally be free…

*** * ***

After her graduation, Rose spent the summer holidays traveling around Europe with Al and Scorp.

The Malfoys owned properties in every large European city, not to mention various sea-coast villas and mansions, so the young people never had to look for a place to stay. Only now Rose realized just how rich the family was. She had never been one to care much about money, but somehow this realization made the distance between her and Mr. Malfoy even larger. _Much_ larger.

There was another thing she noticed, secretly observing Scorpius and his foreign friends, whom she met during the trip. All of them came from the wealthiest and most influential pureblood families in Europe. Apparently, she and Al were the only mixed-blood friends Scorpius had. Also, they were the poorest. Or, to be precise, she, Rose, was the poorest, seeing that the Potters were _the_ most famous family in the wizarding world, and uncle Harry was making lots of money off of his popularity and worked only because he loved his job as Head Auror. 

Of course, that didn’t mean that Scorpius cared for her less than for his other friends, but still the question remained: _why_ didn’t he have more mixed-blood friends who weren’t filthy rich?

This thought led to another – _why_ had Mr. Malfoy never dated regular witches? According to the newspaper articles she had been reading obsessively, all of his mistresses were rich or famous or, usually, both. And all of them were exceptionally beautiful. He dated actresses, models, singers, Quidditch stars, heiresses of affluent families and even royal descendants. Rose didn’t know whether all of them were purebloods, but she was pretty sure that most of them were. 

Apparently, the Malfoys had _very_ high standards when it came to choosing friends and lovers. 

Rose knew that both Scorpius and Mr. Malfoy cared for her – in different ways of course – but they did care. However, that didn’t change the fact that they belonged to an entirely different social class – one that was at the very top. One that she’d never be a part of. As a child, Rose had never thought about the social gap which existed between her family and the Malfoy family, but now she was an adult, and adults were bound to notice such things. 

Somehow, for reasons Rose couldn’t quite understand, these thoughts helped to alleviate her pain. Now she was beginning to realize that she and Mr. Malfoy were just too different to ever be together. To hope that they could be wasn’t just stupid, it was dangerous. This obsession had already wrecked her life to the point that even the smallest damage would simply destroy her. And she couldn’t let that happen.

Rose was replaying these thoughts one evening during another wild party at one of the Malfoys’ villas. As if suddenly waking up, she stared around her – at the glass of ridiculously expensive wine in her hand, at her fancy dress (a gift from Scorpius) – at the golden boys and glittering girls, desperately trying to prove they were having the most fun…

 _‘God, where am I?_ – she thought with a kind of dull surprise. – _What am I doing here? I don’t belong in this place, or among these people…’_

Again, Rose experienced the strange feeling that she had already got used to – a feeling of detachment from reality, of _alienation_. As if she had come to Earth from another planet and now was observing humans, feeling bewildered, unable to understand their strange behavior and their warped beliefs of what mattered in life and what didn’t… 

Putting her glass on a table, she quietly exited the room and slowly walked to her bedroom, lost in her thoughts. 

“Rose,” a male voice suddenly called from behind her. 

She turned and saw Scorpius approaching her. There was an odd expression on his face that Rose had noticed a couple of times before when she had caught him watching her. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what this expression meant, but for some reason it bothered her. 

“Why did you leave?” he asked, stopping a couple of feet from her. He was looking down at her so intently that it made her shiver. It disturbed her, just how much Scorpius reminded her of his father at that moment. 

She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “I’m just tired,” she replied.

“Do you know that of all the people I have ever known, you’re the only one completely incapable of lying convincingly?” he said with a teasing smile. “What is going on with you, Rose? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“It’s just… I am a bit anxious about my future,” she answered with a half-truth. “I still haven’t decided what I want to do, where I want to live… My parents…”

“What did I tell you about lying, Rose?” Scorpius interrupted calmly. He sounded like an adult scolding a naughty child, and it made her suddenly furious. 

“Don’t talk to me with that patronizing tone, Scorp,” she said harshly. “I am not a child!”

With a loud sigh, the young wizard ran his hand through his perfectly arranged hair.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… I worry for you.”

“Well, _don’t_.” 

For a couple of moments he simply looked at her without saying a word. It seemed as if he wanted to tell her something, but couldn’t find the right way to do it.

“Come. I’ll show you to your room,” he said at last. 

Rose rolled her eyes, still annoyed.

“I know where my room is, Scorp! Now it’s me worrying about you. What the heck has got into you?!”

“Come,” he repeated with a very serious expression. “We need to talk. But not here.”

Despite herself, Rose was curious. Scorpius had always treated her like his little sister, teasing her, making her laugh, sometimes annoying her no-end. But now he was behaving really weirdly, and she wanted to know why. 

He showed her to a study, apparently deciding against having this mysterious conversation in her bedroom. He closed and locked the door, then sat on the armchair across from the couch where Rose had taken her seat. 

Yet again, she was disturbed by his striking resemblance to Mr. Malfoy – although it shouldn’t be surprising, seeing that they were a father and son. He really had grown into a good-looking young man, his features more boyish and less masculine than his father’s, but with the same sharp cheekbones, defined jaw and snowy hair that seemed synonymous with being a Malfoy.

“Rose,” Scorpius said after a long stretch of silence, during which she felt increasingly uncomfortable beneath his attentive gaze, “can you tell me what happened to you, last summer? I want to… I _must_ know.”

She stared at him, her mouth open and eyes wide, shocked by this request. God, how did he… Was it possible that somehow he knew about that horrible incident?! Had that arsehole Alberto told him something?! 

“What do you mean?” she asked, trying her hardest to look bewildered. 

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t, Scorp. Nothing happened!”

With a sigh of frustration, the young man rubbed his forehead then looked at her with a mixture of annoyance, caution and worry.

“Look, I’m not stupid, Rose,” he said. “Something happened that night… after we left the club. You know very well which night I’m talking about. Tell me. Please.”

Swallowing loudly, Rose frowned and lowered her gaze to her knees. She certainly did not want to talk about that. It had only been three months since her nightmares had finally stopped. She was shocked by how long it had taken her to recover from that stress, seeing that Alberto didn’t actually rape her. Maybe if she had sought professional help the process would be quicker, but she hadn’t wanted anyone to know. Mr. Malfoy had tried to convince her that it hadn’t been her fault, but Rose couldn’t help feeling that it was her fault, that she behaved like a whore and had deserved to be treated like one… 

“How do you know about that?” she asked in a small voice. “Did _he_ tell you?” She didn’t specify who this “he” was, fearing, dreading that it was Mr. Malfoy. She couldn’t bear the thought that he could betray her trust. 

“So, it is true,” Scorp said in a strangely flat voice. “Who was it? Alberto?”

Rose looked up at him with surprise. “You don’t know who he was? Than how do you…”

“As I said, I’m not stupid. Though I must admit it took me way too long to put all the pieces together. You, hiding in your room for three days, and my father appearing in the Manor out of the blue, freaking me out with his murderous looks – that should have been enough. But the truth is, I only started suspecting that something was wrong after I heard about what had happened to Alberto.” 

Rose frowned. “What do you mean? I thought you father had simply cursed him with the Impotence curse.”

A very strange expression crossed Scorpius’s face, so quickly, that Rose almost missed it. But in a second he was already laughing with what seemed to be genuine amusement.

“ _Simply?_ ” he repeated with a loud snort. “There is no such a thing as “simple” when it comes to the Impotence curse, sweetie. Especially not for a young man.”

“Well, he deserved it!” Rose said with a vehemence that surprised even herself. She had always believed herself to be a forgiving and understanding person, but apparently even her kindness had its limits.

“Did he…” Scorp faltered, suddenly looking unsure and uncomfortable. “I mean… Did you need help or something? Like medical help? Did he hurt you bad?”

“Why are you asking this?” she said quietly, lowing her eyes again. “I don’t want to go through these disgusting details, Scorpius. I just want to forget that it ever happened.”

Letting out a loud sigh, he ran his hand through his hair again, disheveling it even more. “I feel so fucking guilty,” he said angrily. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone with that arsehole. I thought, that… _Fuck_ , I wasn’t thinking at all!”

“It’s not your fault, Scorp!” Rose said firmly. “If anything, it’s my fault. I still can’t believe that I could have been so stupid!” Seeing the tormented expression on her friend’s face, she felt her heart fill with tenderness. “Don’t worry,” she continued in a softer voice, “He didn’t actually… I mean… Your father appeared right in time to stop him from…” she fell silent, blushing a bright shade of red. 

Upon hearing that, Scorpius looked as if a heavy weight had been taken off his shoulders. Suddenly, he stood up and, quickly approaching the couch, he sat down next to Rose and hugged her tightly, making her squeak in surprise. 

“I’m so glad to hear that,” he murmured into her hair. “I just wish I could have got to that bastard before my father did. I’d have made him _beg_ for mercy.”

Something in his voice made Rose shiver. 

“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” she said softly. Then, in a lighter, teasing tone, she added, “Scorp… as sweet as it is sitting here and hugging, you’ll have to let me go. You’re positively drenched in perfume from that blonde girl who you were making out with earlier. I feel like I’m about to throw up.” 

He laughed loudly, letting her go.

“Jealous much?” he asked with an amused smile and raised eyebrows. 

Rolling her eyes, Rose stood up and straightened her dress. They both knew perfectly well that was a joke. They did care a lot for each other, but their friendship was exclusively platonic. To Scorpius, she was like the sister he had never had, not to mention that she was the only girl with whom he could be himself. …However, she had always felt that Scorp had a darker side, which he never showed her. It was another thing that he and his father shared, along with the blond hair and devastating looks. And as much as she tried to ignore it, it _was_ bothering her, even though she knew that Scorpius would never intentionally hurt her. 

“Let’s rejoin the party,” he said, standing up as well. “It’s too early to go to bed.”

“I can’t,” Rose answered with a soft smile. A sudden plan had hatched, fully-formed in her mind, which she immediately, impetuously decided to follow. “I have to pack. I’m leaving for Paris tomorrow. I want to spend the rest of the holidays there.”

Scorpius looked at her, evidently surprised. “Paris? Weren’t we there just last month? What the heck are you going to do there?”

“I need to spend some time alone to decide what I want to do with my life. Endless partying doesn’t particularly help, when it comes to making life-changing decisions.” Observing that Scorpius didn’t look particularly convinced, Rose quickly added, “And I really loved the city and want to explore it a bit more, on my own. Not to mention that the port-keys from Paris to London are really cheap, so I won’t have any trouble getting back home when the summer holidays end.”

The young man was gazing down at her doubtfully. “So, you’re really going to spend ten days in Paris all by yourself, is that what you mean?”

Annoyed, Rose let out an impatient sigh. 

“That’s exactly what I mean, Scorp! What’s so difficult to understand about it?!”

“Well… Rose, I hate to break it to you, but you’re…” he faltered, as if trying to find words that wouldn’t offend her. “Let’s just say, I don’t think you’re particularly capable of taking care of yourself. And it wouldn’t be safe for you to stay unaccompanied in… well, anywhere, really. It would be more prudent if you stayed here, with us. There are plenty of opportunities to spend time alone here as well. You don’t need to go to Paris for that.”

During this speech Rose was staring at her friend with an open mouth, not quite believing her ears. A wave of pure fury was building up inside her, and she felt her face turning redder with each passing second. It was all she could do not to curse her best friend with some really nasty jinx. 

“ _Prudent?!_ ” she repeated in a strangled voice, trying to keep herself from screaming. “I never thought I would hear _that_ particular word coming out of _your_ mouth, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy! How dare you to say such things to me?! I am more than capable of taking care of myself! I am not some – some stupid, pathetic little girl, which you, apparently, believe me to be! I… I... Argh!”

Completely outraged, she stormed to the door and wrenched the handle violently, forgetting in her rage that Scorpius had locked it. When Rose heard a barely-suppressed chuckle behind her back, she swung abruptly around, her wand clutched in her hand, a murderous expression on her face. 

Laughing openly now, Scorpius raised his hands in the air. “Alright, alright, no need for violence! Merlin, you make such funny faces when you’re angry!”

Fuming, Rose waited until he stopped laughing, then said coldly, “I am going to Paris alone, Scorp. And I don’t care what you, or anyone else for that matter, think about it.”

He sighed, the smile fading from his lips as he beheld the icy determination on her face. “Well… the thing is… I promised my father that I would look after you. And Al promised the same thing to your dad. I dread to think of what they would do to us, if something happened to you.”

For some reason, these words made Rose even angrier. So, Mr. Malfoy still believed her to be a helpless little child, who needed protection. And, apparently, her parents and her friends believed the same thing. Well, she was eighteen, dammit! In both magic and muggle world she was considered an adult!

Immediately Rose was overtaken by a strong desire to prove all of them wrong. Especially Mr. Malfoy. She would prove to him, once and for all, that she needed no one, least of all him, in order to become an independent and successful woman. 

“You can tell your _father_ , that my well-being is none of his concern,” she said in the same determined, icy-cold voice, “and that, despite his low opinion of me, I am not the stupid child he believes me to be. Not anymore.”

Paying no mind to Scorpius’s flabbergasted expression, she turned her back on him and, unlocking the door with a swift swish of her wand, she stalked out of the room. 

Most of the night Rose spent tossing and turning, chaotic thoughts swirling through her mind, feelings of hurt and anger filling her chest. But there was something else that troubled her greatly, something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. It was only just as she was falling asleep that Rose finally understood what it was. That strange expression which had crossed Scorp’s face, when they were talking about Alberto… at that very moment, her sixth sense immediately clicked all the pieces together, and in her heart she knew that Mr. Malfoy had done something much _worse_ to Alberto, than to simply curse him. And somehow, she knew _exactly_ what it was. 

But her conscience was unable to handle the idea – that the man whom she loved so much, could be capable of doing such a horrific thing to another human being – and, as quickly as this realization arose in her mind, she buried it in the deepest, darkest recesses of her subconsciousness, never to let it come to light again.


	8. Chapter 8

Rose wasn’t lying when she told Scorpius about how much she loved Paris. There was something about the city that enchanted her, even when she was a child. 

While she admired the beautiful architecture and enjoyed the romantic atmosphere, the thing that attracted her the most was the magical part of Paris. Unlike their British counterparts, French witches and wizards were as progressive as muggles. Here, no one would be scandalized by the sight of a witch wearing a tight miniskirt, or two wizards kissing passionately, and no one – not even descendants of ancient pureblood families – would allow themselves to talk derisively about muggleborns. 

During her previous visits, Rose had been forced to visit countless museums and libraries, when she was traveling with her parents, or to attend never-ending parties, when she was staying in the city with her friends. None of this, she believed, represented the real spirit of Paris. To her, its true beauty was in the narrow old streets lined by tiny shops, and cafés that had been owned by the same families for centuries. It was in the bitter smell of freshly-brewed coffee mixed with the sweet smell of croissants which filled these streets early in the morning. And old houses with chipped paint on their walls and blooming flowers in their window-boxes held more beauty to her than the Eiffel Tower itself. 

Lost in her thoughts, Rose wandered around the old part of the city for hours on end, returning to her tiny Parisian flat, owned by her aunt Fleur, only late in the evening. As she roamed she thought about her past and her future and about things she wanted to accomplish in her life.   
She thought about the choices her parents had been trying to force on her. Rose’s mother wanted her to become a lawyer or a mediwitch, while her father, who believed that a woman’s primary role was to be a wife and a mother, wanted her to find a “female” job that wouldn’t interfere with her household responsibilities. Rose didn’t know yet which career path she would choose, but she knew one thing perfectly well – she wouldn’t let anyone decide her future for her. 

_“Follow your dreams,”_ Mr. Malfoy had told her in his letter. Unfortunately, he hadn’t told her how to create new dreams, when the old ones were shattered to pieces.

_‘What are HIS dreams?’_ Rose wondered. _‘Does he even have any? He has everything a man could wish for, yet his life seems so empty. There’s nothing in it but work and short, meaningless relationships with women, whose names he probably doesn’t even remember. His ex-wife abhors him. His son is completely indifferent to him. A man in his position cannot have many true friends… Gods, he must be so lonely…’_

Rose felt her heart swell with pity for this strange, beautiful man, whose cold eyes could be so warm, whose cruel lips could curve into such a caressing smile… and she knew that she was one of the very few who had seen this gentle, affectionate side of him.   
For a while she entertained a sweet fantasy, imagining Mr. Malfoy falling in love with her, asking her to be with him, to fill the void in his heart, to bring meaning into his lonely life… Any time she would catch herself thinking about it, she would cringe, embarrassed by the sheer naivety of this silly girly fantasy. 

In such moments she tried hard to banish all thoughts about Mr. Malfoy from her mind, but, like tendrils of fog, they were elusive and all-enveloping, penetrating every corner of her consciousness, enchanting her, poisoning her… It made Rose feel like she didn’t belong to herself anymore, like she had no control over her life, and this feeling of utter helplessness was terrifying. 

But giving up wasn’t an option – Rose knew that she had to find a way to put this obsession behind her. It was a disease, and, left uncured, it would eventually destroy her.

_‘I should find a distraction, something to occupy my mind with,’ she told herself one day, walking along a narrow cobblestone street in the muggle part of the city. ‘Something that I would find as fascinating as him. Something like… like…’_

Suddenly, she came to a halt, surprised by the sight of a tiny ancient-looking magical shop, squeezed between the tall walls of two old apartment buildings on the either side of it. It looked like it was about to collapse – the rickety yellow-tiled roof had lost most of its covering, countless deep cracks on the walls curved in all directions like ivy vines, and a skewed wooden door hung on its rusted hinges… 

Intrigued, Rose crossed the street and approached the mysterious shop, trying to read the name above the door, but the letters had faded, leaving only smudges of pale yellow paint. The wide circle-top window was covered with such a thick layer of dust and dirt that it was impossible to see the display of goods that must be laid out behind it. 

_‘How strange,’_ Rose thought, running her finger along one of the cracks, _‘A magical store on the outskirts of muggle Paris… It looks abandoned. Why wasn’t it demolished then? The British Department of Muggle Affairs wouldn’t have allowed a store to be built in such a spot in the first place…”_

Unable to contain her curiosity, she drew out her wand, fearing that the roof could collapse on her head at any moment, and pushed the squeaky door inwards. She almost jumped out of her skin when a bell rung shrilly above her head, but then froze on the threshold, gasping with pure delight. The tiny store was magically enlarged from the inside and was packed with all kinds of treasures - thick old books, each with a beautiful leather or metallic cover, decorated with intricate tracery; ancient-looking scrolls made of crude paper and papyrus; small wooden and clay tablets covered with odd letters that she couldn’t recognize; old maps on the wall, statuettes of deities from ancient cultures, countless souvenirs from different countries and so much more! 

Rose didn’t even notice how she entered the store – eyes open wide with wonder, she found herself standing in the middle of the room and staring at the things around her, unable to decide which one to pick up first. 

Finally, she approached a book-shelf and hesitantly reached out for a heavy manuscript that attracted her attention with the glistering gems on its silvery cover.

Suddenly she heard a squeaky voice behind, “I would advise against touching this book, _ma poupée_. Unless you want to spend the rest of your days deaf, blind, and mute.” 

With a loud gasp Rose abruptly swung around and her gaze fell upon a tiny elderly witch, who looked as old as the shop itself. Her saggy, wrinkled skin was covered with countless age spots, her snow-white hair barely covered her scalp and there were just a couple of crooked, yellow teeth in her thin-lipped mouth. It seemed that, just like one of the fragile statuettes on the shelves, she was made out of clay and could fall apart at any moment. But her faded-blue eyes had a bright and sharp glance, and with a slight shiver Rose felt as if it had penetrated into her very core. There was a great wealth of intelligence in those eyes, as well as curiosity, and a poorly-disguised vulnerability that made Rose’s heart swell with pity. It seemed that the old lady feared that her unexpected customer would bid farewell very soon and disappear, leaving her all alone again. One didn’t have to be particularly observant to realise that this witch was terribly, terribly lonely. 

“You have a kind heart, _ma petite_ ,” said the old lady, looking at her thoughtfully. Then she smiled, exposing her shiny, pink gums. “Now tell me, what is such a beautiful young girl doing in this godforsaken place?” 

“Well,” Rose replied, “I was just walking along this street and kind-of stumbled upon your store.” Then, her eyes widening with curiosity, she added, “But how did you know I was British?”

The witch laughed with genuine amusement. “You are British through and through, honey. Only a blind person would not notice that! …Now tell me, what is your name?”

“Oh… I’m Rose Weasley,” answered Rose hurriedly, cursing herself for forgetting her good manners. “– And may I ask your name, madam?” 

“I am Marion Dubois, the owner of this ugly little store,” the lady answered with bitter irony. Then she sighed, looking around. “I am too old to take care of this place, and I couldn’t find anyone who’d want to help me… There’s just too much work to do and I can’t offer an appropriate pay…” Again, she let out a sad, quiet sigh, “Not that there is any need for that, seeing that no one comes here anymore…” 

“You have a wonderful, wonderful store, madam Dubois!” Rose tried to make her voice sound soft and consoling, but couldn’t quite contain her delight. “I have never seen anything like it, I swear! I wouldn’t mind being locked in here for a week or so!”

Marion laughed again, all bitterness gone from her voice. “Well, if you like it so much, come with me, I’ll show you some artefacts that you won’t find even in the Parisian Museum of Magical History. I myself collected all of them, traveling around the world, visiting places that had been abandoned for hundreds of years… Come, _ma poupée_ , I’ll show you…”

Rose spent almost four hours in the store, perusing its countless treasures, listening to the incredible stories about the old lady’s travels, then having tea with her in the tiny, littered kitchen and answering her endless questions.

On her way home Rose barely noticed the beauty of the late summer evening, the mouth-watering aroma coming from restaurants, or the romantic couples sitting at the small, round tables lit with candles and decorated with petite bouquets. Before, this mere sight would had filled her with deep sadness and the feeling of personal inadequacy. _‘What is wrong with me?’_ she had thought more than once, looking at young people exchanging loving smiles and kisses. _‘Why can’t I be like them? God, I feel so lonely…’_

But this night was different. Rose walked slowly, replaying the day’s events in her memory and thinking about Marion and her fascinating life. 

_‘That is what I want to do,’_ she realised suddenly, feeling a wave of pure excitement rushing through her. _‘I want to travel around the world, to visit long-forgotten places and study long-forgotten cultures… I want to be an archeologist!’_

For the first time in many years Rose didn’t see Mr. Malfoy’s face before falling asleep. She saw herself, exploring ruins of the great civilizations of the past, admiring the flaming sunsets of the Sahara, wading through impassable Amazon rainforests, climbing the great mountains of Tibet and diving into the unfathomable ocean depths, looking for the lost island of Atlantida, swallowed by cold, dark waters thousands of years ago… 

As soon as Rose arrived home, she owled her documents to the Parisian University of Magic and in a week received a letter informing her that she had been accepted to the Faculty of History and Archeology. Ignoring the yells of her outraged father and admonitions of her dismayed mother, she packed her clothes, and at the end of August returned to Paris. 

The University provided free dorm rooms for the students who couldn’t afford to rent a place to live. Rose had some money to last for a couple of months, but she knew that she had to find a job. Thankfully, she didn’t have to look hard for one – Marion was more than happy to hire her. Indeed, there was a lot of work to do in the little store, and although she probably could find a higher-paying job, Rose considered herself very lucky to just have the opportunity to work for someone who had such a wealth of experience in Archeology. Not to mention all the fascinating things that were crowded in the shop. 

When, at the beginning of September, Rose entered a huge hall to listen to her very first lecture in Ancient History, she realized that it was the first day of a new chapter in her life. And she promised herself that, in this chapter, Mr. Malfoy would not exist.

* * *

Among all the young people who entered the Faculty of History in the same year as Rose, there were only four students who decided to specialize in Archeology – three guys and a girl. Just like the rest of the students, they had courses in History of Magic, Muggle History, Cultural and Religious studies, Anthropology, Ancient Languages and many other subjects. But on top of that they studied Practical Archeology and Defense Against The Dark Arts, both of these courses being exceptionally difficult. But Rose didn’t mind – for the first time in her life, she felt that she belonged to a group of people with whom she shared the same goals and interests.

Magical Archeology was an unpopular career choice because it required five years of grueling study and summer practice training, but offered no good pay, nor comfortable or safe working conditions. So, those who seriously decided to pursue this profession, were truly passionate about it.   
From the very first week, the five future archeologists spent a lot of time together, attending lectures, studying in the library, sharing lunches and hitting the student bars on Friday nights. Very soon they all became good friends – something that Rose had never had before. In the summer they had their first practice expedition – an easy and safe one, but still real. They spent three months in Portugal digging out a tiny magical village dating back to the eleventh century. 

For most people it would seem like a terrible way to spend a summer, but Rose had never been happier. Working shoulder to shoulder with her friends, professors and practicing archeologists she felt an overwhelming sense of unity, of being a part of a team, of doing something important. And in the evenings, sitting with them around a bonfire, sharing dinner, talking and laughing, she felt deep gratitude and affection towards these people, for accepting her into their close circle and for treating her with kindness and respect. 

Rose could understand that in some sense she was projecting her feelings onto her colleagues and attributing them qualities they probably didn’t have, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that. In her head, she created a perfect little world and filled it with perfect people, with whom she felt safe and comfortable, and nothing beyond the borders of this world mattered anymore. 

There was one moment during that expedition which Rose remembered for the rest of her life - the moment when she found her first artefact. It was a child’s toy: a small wooden doll, dirty, cracked, with one missing hand. When she took it into her trembling hands, her imagination created a vivid picture of a child, a girl, who had lived here a thousand years ago, who played with this doll, loved it and cared for it… A shiver ran down Rose’s back. She felt as if History itself were touching her through the medium of this little toy. And in this thrilling moment, Rose knew she had found a new obsession, one that would stay with her till the end of her days.

* * *

While Rose’s social life was now interesting and fulfilling, the same could not be said about her private life. She tried dating a few different guys, but these relationships (if they could be called so) all ended after just four or five dates.

She couldn’t understand what was wrong, why it kept happening… She simply felt nothing at all for these men. Their kisses and touches left her completely indifferent, both physically and emotionally, and somehow, they always knew that. Soon, dating became a chore, but Rose continued, desperately trying to escape the looming sense of loneliness that sometimes threatened to swallow her entire being. But it seemed she was fighting a losing battle. 

And all the while, her friends and acquaintances were falling in and out of love, creating and breaking relationships, and even getting married and starting families. It seemed like everyone had a partner or a loved one and was living a full, exciting and satisfying life. Everyone, but her.   
Finally, when dating a smart and handsome post-graduate student, Rose decided to take things to the next level. He was very gentle and patient, and obviously quite experienced, but it didn’t help. Throughout the whole process she felt completely detached, like she wasn’t a participant, but an object, used for the satisfaction of the man on top of her. And at the end, when she felt his warm, viscous sperm spilling inside of her, Rose was suddenly overtaken by the feeling of such intense disgust, that, pushing the man off her, she bent over the edge of the bed and promptly threw up. 

Not listening to her miserable excuses, the young man dressed with lightning speed and disappeared. 

Rose’s two following intimate relationships ended in fiasco as well, and, after her last boyfriend advised her to visit a mediwitch for the treatment of frigidity, she decided to give up. There was only so much humiliation she could take. 

With time, her loneliness and the growing feeling of being defective, _abnormal_ , became so overwhelming that she developed severe depression and had to visit a muggle psychiatrist, because such specialists didn’t exist in magical medicine. Despite their severity she managed to hide the symptoms of her depression pretty much from everyone, including her parents. The only one who noticed that something was wrong was Marion. Extremely alarmed, the old witch convinced Rose to move to her place so that she could take care or her. Apparently, Marion was knowledgeable not only in Archeology but in many other fields as well, including Potions, because she managed to snap Rose out of her depression in just a couple of months. And, being a strong believer in the healing power of hard work, Marion charged Rose with so many tasks, that the young woman simply had no time to dwell on her upsetting thoughts. 

Only now, Rose realised how difficult it had been for her to live in the student dorm. All of her friends had already moved into rented apartments with their loved ones, so for a year Rose had to share her room with a younger student, Alicia – a petty little bitch, who relished in her dorm-mate’s nonexistent romantic life, as if it somehow made her feel better about herself. 

“What’s the point of being pretty if you’re such a loser!” she snidely said once while gossiping to her girlfriend, loud enough to ensure that Rose overheard. 

At that moment, Rose decided that she had had enough, and that night, when the girl was peacefully asleep, she jinxed her with a spell that she had found in one of Marion’s books – one that caused genital rash and intense itching. _‘Let’s see how that affects YOUR sex life, you, bitch!’_ she thought with malicious glee, when Alicia started tossing and turning, letting out pitiful little whines.

For more than two weeks, Rose sadistically enjoyed her dorm-mate’s misery, making pointed remarks about the dangers of a promiscuous life, while the poor girl was visiting one mediwitch after another, desperately trying to find relief from her suffering, which, by the looks of it, was unbearable. 

Then, one night when she awoke to the sound of Alicia sobbing in the next room, it was as if a fog suddenly lifted from Rose’s eyes. With horror, she realised just what she had been doing – torturing another human being for something as petty as a stupid jibe. And it wasn’t just that. In tormenting Alicia, Rose had been subconsciously venting her own anger which had been building up inside of her for years – anger caused by her own unhappiness. 

At that moment, Rose discovered two things about herself: she could be as viciously vindictive as her otherwise kind mother, and inflicting pain on others made her feel even more miserable. 

She waited for Alicia to at last fall into an exhausted slumber, then she removed the jinx and vowed to herself to never hurt another human being again, even if she believed that they deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about another transitional chapter, guys! Unfortunately, it plays a very important role in the plot of the story, so it was necessary. It was extremely long (18 pages), so my beta advised me to divide it in two. I’ll post the second part very soon (there will be a lot of Scorpius in it), and then Mr. Malfoy will be back! As usual, many, many thanks for my wonderful beta, The_Artful_Scribbler. Btw, if you are a fan of Lumione, you absolutely must check her story “Belonging To The Fog”. I swear, it’s one of the most amazing stories I’ve ever read! And if you don’t care much for this pairing, I promise that after reading this story, you’ll fall in love with it, just like I did!


	9. Chapter 9

With time’s erosion, Rose’s obsession with Mr. Malfoy became weaker and weaker. 

Busy with her studies, work and expeditions, she rarely thought of him; her memories of his touch, his scent and the sound of his voice slowly fading into non-existence. His face, however, she remembered well, because his photograph appeared in various gossip columns almost every month. Of course, he never was alone in these pictures - different women, each one more beautiful than the last, accompanied him to every social event. 

Looking at these photographs, at his handsome face, often marred with a supremely haughty or bored expression, Rose had a hard time believing that her memories were even real, and not just some silly teenage fantasies. Had it really happened? Had she indeed had so many intimate conversations with this man, basking in the glow of his undivided attention and blushing any time he would pay her a compliment or look at her with that tender expression in his beautiful eyes which made her feel so pretty, so _special_ … Could it really be that once, on that fateful night, she had lain next to him, naked, shivering, struggling to breathe, begging for his touch…? 

In the moments when these memories filled her mind, Rose cringed from embarrassment and annoyance at her younger self. God, she was so _pitiful_! Where was her pride? Where was her sound mind? How could she have been such an idiot! Mr. Malfoy probably laughed his head off any time he remembered that incident! A love-sick teenage girl crawling naked into his bed, wantonly pleading for him to take her… She could only hope that he had never told this story to anyone, especially not to those exquisite women he had for lovers. 

...But something told Rose that Mr. Malfoy would never betray her trust in such a terrible way. He wasn’t a kind man - she knew that from the very moment she looked into his cold, impenetrable eyes for the first time. But he had always been kind to _her_. Probably more than she deserved… 

Yet a part of her was glad that she had found enough courage to come to his bedroom on that night. And as much as Rose was embarrassed by these memories, she still cherished them. After all, it was the first and the last time she actually _enjoyed_ the touch of a man… And it was the only time she was with someone whom she loved. Now, after the long string of failed relationships, Rose feared that she would never experience it again. She knew that at twenty-two she was still too young to worry about that, but the thought of meeting her loved one sometime in the future couldn’t warm her up at nights, nor could it satisfy her desire for intimacy. …Nor could it save her from loneliness – her only faithful, long-term partner, one that she was slowly growing more and more accustomed to…

While her passion for Mr. Malfoy had abated with time, its embers were still smouldering deeply inside her, and instinctively Rose knew that it wouldn’t take much to ignite the burning blaze that would consume her entire being again. And that was the reason why she had been avoiding Scorpius all these years - he reminded her too much of his father, and of the time she had spent at the Malfoy Manor. 

During her first two years at the University, the young man had sent her a lot of letters and invitations to various parties or simply to dinner or lunch, but Rose declined all of them under the pretense of being terribly busy. Her guilt was eating her alive, but the sense of self-preservation proved to be stronger. 

Eventually Scorpius stopped his attempts to contact her, and Rose was as much saddened by it as she was relieved. She had pushed away a dear friend, and it was an irretrievable loss, especially because she didn’t have many friends to begin with. But somehow, it felt like the right thing to do – belonging to two completely different worlds, they’d eventually have grown apart anyway. Besides, she couldn’t afford the fancy dresses and expensive make up required for going to places where Scorpius liked spending his free time. Having refused her parents’ financial help for the sake of independence, Rose was now one of the thousands of poor students who juggled classes and work, trying to make ends meet. And she had absolutely no desire to feel like a square peg in a round hole among all those filthy rich young people who believed themselves to be the center of the Universe. 

And somehow, Rose couldn’t see Scorpius – the heir of one of the most affluent magical families in the world – gracing a cheap student bar with his presence. Not to mention that now he was basking in the limelight more often than his father did (and by the looks of it enjoying it immensely), so his celebrity status was yet another obstacle between them. 

No. There was no denying that, childhood friendship apart, they had nothing in common. Rose knew that all these considerations were but excuses for pushing Scorpius away, but these considerations were relevant enough to pacify her guilt.

Then one day, something happened that was bound to occur eventually – Rose bumped into Scorpius by chance as she was attaching a poster advertising Marion’s store to a lamp-post. The old lady had decided to put on sale some high-priced items and use the money to renovate the store, so Rose had to advertise the store in places regularly visited by wealthy wizards and witches. One such place was Boulevard des Galantes – one of the trendiest and most expensive streets of Magical Paris, full of luxury boutiques and famous restaurants. 

Holding a pile of posters in one hand, Rose attached one to the lamp-post opposite a jewelry boutique and then, turning, noticed a tall blond man standing a couple of meters away and staring down at her intently. 

Immediately, her heart leapt into her throat and her vision blurred. A panicked thought flashed through her mind: _‘Oh God, it’s HIM!’_ But when the fog cleared before her eyes, Rose realised that it wasn’t Mr. Malfoy – it was Scorpius. 

Despite seeing his photographs in the news so many times, Rose was struck by how handsome and elegant he had become. He had grown taller and gained some weight, which suited him well. If before he had been somewhat skinny and lanky, as many teenage boys were, now he looked truly masculine. His face had changed, too – it was slimmer, pronouncing his high cheekbones and strong jawline. Even his trademark Malfoy hair had darkened slightly, and was now sandy-blond instead of pale gold. Only his eyes hadn’t changed – large, bright-blue, surrounded by strikingly dark lashes… except for their expression, which was frosty and intense. 

When Rose met his gaze, she felt as if she received a blow to her stomach – that’s how cold and arrogant it was. 

“Ah, Rose… long time no see, huh?” he drawled. The tone of his voice was supremely contemptuous, but with a barely-noticeable undercurrent of anger. Looking her over, he smirked, “You look… nice.”

Rose blushed hotly. She knew that she didn’t look “nice” at that moment. It was only five days since she had returned from a three-month-long expedition to the Taklamakan Desert, which was utterly exhausting, and Rose still felt jetlagged and very tired. The working conditions were so dire that, despite her tendency to gain weight, she had lost twelve pounds and looked too skinny. And of course, this morning, preparing to spend the day walking around the city and attaching posters to every vertical surface, she hadn’t bothered to put on nice clothes. 

So now Rose was standing in front of the elegantly-dressed Scorpius wearing simple denim shorts, sandals and a tank top. Her unruly hair was caught up in a messy bun, and there wasn’t a drop of makeup on her face… And, to top it all off, there was a large, ugly bandage swathing her left hand, the result of a nasty accident in a burial chamber. 

To make the situation even worse, moments later Scorpius was joined by a beautiful and stylish young woman who, after looking Rose up and down, curved her perfectly arched eyebrow and gazed up at her companion with a question in her eyes. 

“Hello, Scorpius,” answered Rose in a small shaking voice, failing to conceal how deeply hurt she was by his disdainful tone and derisive attitude. Only now she understood how it felt to be the target of the infamously-vicious sarcasm so characteristic of the Malfoys. 

Scorpius’s eyes softened a fraction when he took in her wounded expression. “So, how have you been?”

Rose shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “Fine… Very busy, though. Studies, work, summer practice…” Gaining courage, she forced herself to look directly at him. “…and you?” she asked shyly. 

“I’m fine as well, thank you… Not as busy as you are, obviously.” The caustic tone was back now, and Rose understood that he was referring to the fact that she had been avoiding him for several years. “Well…” he looked at his lovely companion, who was now staring at Rose with acute interest, “…we should be on our way. It was nice seeing you again.”

“It was nice…” but she didn’t finish the sentence because Scorpius already turned and, courteously offering his arm to the woman, led her away. Staring at his back in utter disbelief, Rose felt a wave of fury and had to restrain herself from casting some nasty jinx on him. 

Feeling that she was about to burst in tears, she quickly apparated to her bedroom in Marion’s tiny apartment, fell on the bed and cried her heart out. Never… not in a thousand years had she thought that Scorpius could treat her this way. She expected anger and a barrage of accusatory questions, but not this cold, cruel contempt. 

Exhausted, she soon fell asleep. Waking an hour later, Rose refreshed her face then picked up the posters with a sad sigh and apparated. It didn’t matter how terrible she felt – no one was going to do her work for her. 

On the next day a gloomy Rose spent the whole morning getting ready for her final year at University, which was due to begin in a week. Then she returned home and started dusting off the multiple books and artefacts in the storage room behind the store. Suddenly, Bella, the shop assistant hired three years ago, entered the room. For some reason she was slightly flushed and had a glazed look. 

“Rose, there is a handsome gentleman waiting for you in the shop,” said she with a dreamy smile on her pretty face, “ _very_ handsome, I mean…”

Intrigued, Rose followed her back to the shop and froze when she saw Scorpius. The young man was standing near the display of Egyptian amulets and studying them attentively. When he heard her steps, he looked at Rose abruptly, and his face ( _very_ handsome, indeed) acquired a guarded expression. 

Rose was so surprised that she even forgot how offended she was by his disgusting behavior yesterday. “Scorpius!” she exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you,” he said in a calm and controlled tone. Then he pursed his lips and frowned. “That is… if you still want to talk to me.”

“Um… Sure…” answered Rose, somewhat confused by the sudden change in his behavior. But she was not one to hold grudges (as she had learnt with the case of Alicia), and if Scorpius had come to apologize she was not about to show him the door. 

He gave her a small smile, which would have looked simply polite to someone else, but Rose had spent enough time around the Malfoys to understand that he was glad to hear that. Then his eyes looked her over, lingering on her old t-shirt emblazoned with, “ **Archeologists do it in the dirt** ”. Rose blushed, meeting his amused gaze, though she loved this shirt precisely because it never failed to make her smile. 

“Alright then…” she faltered unsure of what to say, “I’ll have to change… Can you wait for me here? I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

He agreed, and Rose rushed to her room and changed with lightning speed into a summer dress. She herself was surprised by just how excited she was about the prospect of spending some time with Scorpius, despite the way he had treated her yesterday. Only now she realised how terribly she had been missing him all these years. He was the closest friend she’d ever had, and now Rose was shocked that she had been stupid enough to intentionally ruin their friendship. 

When she came downstairs dressed in a pretty blue summer dress, with her flaming red hair in a loose French braid and a touch of makeup on her face, she saw Scorpius leaning over the counter and say something in a hushed voice and with a teasing smile to a prettily blushing Bella. 

Rose rolled her eyes. This incorrigible womanizer _still_ couldn’t keep it in his pants. That certainly hadn’t changed.

“Bella, after Marion wakes up from her nap, please tell her that I’ll be back in an hour or so, alright?” she said softly, hoping that the girl would be wise enough not to fall in love with Scorpius, who, just like his father, had a reputation of being a merciless heartbreaker. The European newspapers never got tired of discussing every relationship he had ever had in great detail, and somehow the paparazzi always managed to snap photos of the sobbing women right after Scorpius broke the news to the poor things… which, for some reason, he always did in public places. Apparently, _unlike_ his father, he really loved being in the limelight.

“Two hours,” corrected Scorpius. “We have a lot to discuss.” His eyes went hard, and Rose let out a short sigh. Apparently she was in for a long and difficult conversation. Trying to suppress her quickly-increasing anxiety, she nodded and went to the door, ignoring the openly curious and a bit jealous Bella’s stare. Scorpius followed her outside. 

“Please, leave Bella alone,” she said quietly when they were out on the street. “She just went through a messy breakup, and I really don’t want to deal with the dramatics of a heartbroken girl.”

Now it was Scorpius rolling his eyes. “Merlin, why do women love complicating things so much?” he said, offering her his arm. “Hold on. I’ll apparate us to a quiet place, where we can talk without interruption.”

He transported them to a discrete corner of a shadowy street in the muggle part of Paris, and then led her to a cozy brasserie. Apparently, he had already made a reservation, because the maître d'hôte immediately showed them to a small table near the large window that offered a beautiful view of the picturesque street outside. 

“I had no idea that you visit the muggle part of the city,” said Rose after they placed their orders. 

The young man shrugged. “I do when I want to avoid paparazzi. No one would think to look for me here.” 

“I see…” Rose fell silent, feeling increasingly awkward under his direct, penetrating gaze. It was so intense that she had to lower her eyes, cursing inwardly when a hot blush started spreading over her face. 

“You’ve changed,” he said flatly. “Although you blush as easily as before.”

“I don’t think that will ever change,” mumbled Rose, barely suppressing the urge to fidget in her seat. Unlike _her_ , Scorpius didn’t seem bothered by the uncomfortable atmosphere. Reclining on his chair, he continued staring at her, until the waiter brought their orders. After that Scorpius cast the “Notice-me-not” and Inaudibility spells, then, suddenly straightening in his chair, he grabbed her wrist and violently pulled her forward. Rose let out a startled gasp when her stomach hit the edge of the table so hard that the china rattled and coffee spilled out of the cups, immediately soaking the pristine white tablecloth.

“What _the fuck_ , Rose?” hissed Scorpius, his voice low and taut with anger. His eyes, dispassionate just a moment ago, were now blazing with fury. “One day you leave without as much as saying goodbye and then ignore me for _four fucking years_?!”

“Please, Scorpius, you’re hurting me!” Rose cried, trying to free her hand from his vice-like grip. 

Immediately, he let her go, as if burnt, and she stared with horror at the white finger imprints slowly filling with blood. This was going to bruise quite badly very soon. She looked up at Scorpius with huge eyes, shocked and frightened. She had never thought he could be so violent. At least, not to _her_. His face was marred with an expression of undisguised rage, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes dark, teeth clenched, a muscle in his jaw twitching... He visibly struggled to control his temper. Finally, the tense line of his broad shoulders relaxed and his face smoothed out. 

Cleaning the mess on the table with a swish of his wand, he gazed at her injured hand but didn’t apologize. “I think you owe me an explanation.” His voice was so cold that it made Rose shiver. She was still shaken by this display of brutality from this man who used to be her closest friend. 

“I…” her voice broke and she faltered, knowing that one more word and she’d burst in tears. 

“Yes?” he asked in a clipped tone. 

“I am sorry…” she whispered, furtively wiping her wet cheeks.

“You’re _sorry_? That’s all you have to say? I don’t give a _shit_ whether you’re sorry or not, Rose. Give me the reason. What have I done to you so terrible, that for four years the only thing I get from you is a fucking birthday card?!”

Rose swallowed audibly, trying to come up with a reason that would sound convincing enough to stop further questions - any reason, except for the true one.

“And don’t even _think_ about lying to me,” Scorpius said in a dangerously low voice. “Trust me, you don’t want to make me even angrier than I already am.”

“I was in love with your father, alright?!” she screamed impulsively, and the weight of this secret that had been gnawing at her for years, suddenly became so unbearable that she covered her face with her hands and started weeping uncontrollably. 

These words were followed by a long stretch of silence, interrupted only by her breathless sobs. 

When Rose finally calmed down and raised her gaze, she saw that Scorpius was staring at her with utter disbelief plainly written across his face. He looked so flabbergasted that Rose soggily giggled, despite herself. 

“You were in love with my father…” he repeated slowly her words, as if struggling to understand their meaning. Suddenly his face twisted with fury. “That fucking _bastard_! Did he do anything? Did he touch you? I’ll _kill_ him! I’ll fucking _kill_ him! And here I was thinking that he couldn’t possibly sink any lower! Fucking child molester!” 

“No, Scorpius, he didn’t do anything!” Rose cried, horrified by his murderous expression. “It was all my fault, I swear! He never… I mean… He didn’t molest me! How could you even think that?!”

For a couple of minutes Scorpius simply looked at her, breathing heavily, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. “So, he never touched you?” he growled.

“Well, of course he _touched_ me!” exclaimed Rose with an exasperated sigh. “He shook my hand more times that I could count and once he kissed it! It’s not a crime, is it?”

“You know what I mean, Rose,” Scorpius said in a harsh tone. 

“No, he never touched me _that_ way!” Thoughts in her head were fluttering wildly, as she tried to find a way to hide the actual truth. If Scorpius learned about what had happened on the night she had sneaked into Mr. Malfoy’s bedroom, he’d be _really_ pissed off. “Although, it’s not for lack of trying on my part.” She blushed hotly, but decided to proceed, hoping that if she presented the situation in humorous way, Scorpius would believe her. So, she added with a giggle, “Once I even accosted him, accused of treating me like a child and demanded he take me as his lover.” 

For a couple of moments Scorpius was staring at Rose with wide eyes, as if seeing her for the first time, and then he threw his head back and let out a giant belly laugh. It was so contagious that Rose started laughing too, and it took quite some time for them to calm down.

“Merlin, I wish I could see his face at that moment,” Scorpius said, wiping his eyes and still chuckling.

Rose giggled. “I had never seen him so astonished. I want to die from embarrassment every time I remember that.”

“What did he say?”

“Well… I cannot say he let me down gently,” Rose answered, and for some reason this humiliating memory made her smile. “I received a thorough rebuke and was called a naïve child… which I probably was…”

 _“Probably?”_ teased Scorpius, curving his eyebrow sarcastically. Then he frowned slightly and leaned back in his chair. For some time he was quiet, trying to process this information. 

“Alright, you were in love with my father. But what the heck does that have to do with me?”

She sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted to the point of feeling an oncoming migraine. 

“Can you please order some coffee first? I feel so tired,” she asked quietly, rubbing her temples. 

Scorpius did as she asked, and, after taking a sip, Rose squeezed the cup with her thin fingers, not daring to meet her friend’s eyes. “I wasn’t just in love with him, Scorp. I was _obsessed_ with him. Utterly obsessed. It was… unhealthy, to say the least. It was beyond my control and… and it _wrecked_ me…” her voice broke with emotion, and for a minute she struggled to compose herself. “And after I moved to Paris, I vowed to do anything in my power to get him out of my system. And you…” she glanced at the young man whose face was now completely unreadable, “…you reminded me too much of him… And I knew… I _thought_ that I wouldn’t be able to put it all behind me if I kept seeing you…”

Scorpius was silent for a long, long time.

“Well, that certainly explains a lot,” he said at last. “Didn’t I tell you that women loved complicating things? You just took it to a whole new level. So…” he looked at her with a piercing, inquisitive gaze, and she knew that if she tried to lie to him he’d immediately know, “did you get him out of your system, as you so aptly put it?”

“I think I did…” Rose faltered, suddenly unsure. “I mean… I am pretty sure that I did, but I’m not about to put theory to the test. I never thought I’d one day be able to say this, but I’m _glad_ that he didn’t… you know… I dread to think of what would have happened to me otherwise. I was so young and indeed naïve. It’s not like such a relationship could last...” 

“So, there is a speck of decency left in my father,” Scorpus muttered. “I thought he had forgotten the meaning of the word.” Scorpius curved his lips into a derisive smile, which made Rose wonder just what had happened between him and Mr. Malfoy to cause such hostility. 

Unable to restrain her curiosity, she asked, “What do you mean by that?”

“Let’s just say you are very lucky that he turned you down, and drop this subject. I don’t want to talk about my father anymore.”

Realising that he was not going to say anything else about Mr. Malfoy, Rose swallowed her questions, and then, after a moment of hesitation, she shyly took his hand.

“Will you forgive me, Scorpius?” she asked, looking at him beseechingly. “I should have never… I mean… I don’t know what I was thinking… I was not in my right mind. At the time, pushing you away seemed like the right thing to do, but now I realise it was a mistake… A huge, stupid mistake. You are… I mean… you were my closest friend, and I did miss you terribly…”

Scorpius’s eyes were eyes serious and intense as he gazed directly into her face. 

“If it were _anyone_ else… even Albus… they would be _very sorry_ ,” he said, his voice so harsh that Rose stared at him with huge and somewhat fearful eyes. “I don’t like being treated this way. You, however…” his expression relented and he smiled, gently squeezing her hand, “you are different. And I am willing to put it behind us for the sake of our friendship. I missed you too, little one. Very much so. But promise you’ll never do that again. Whatever problems you might have, you can always discuss them with me, and we’ll find a solution.”

Deeply touched, Rose gave him a tearful smile. “Thank you…” she whispered gratefully. Then she added in a lighter tone, “but you have to promise that you’ll never call me _‘little one’_ again. You’re just five months older than I am.” 

He laughed. “When it comes to life experience, sweetheart, I am at least a decade older than you.” 

“I can see your ego is as large as ever,” she answered teasingly. 

Scorpius gave her a lazy smile. “Inherited with the family name, I’m afraid.” Then he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “So… archeologists do it in the dirt, huh?”

“Oh, shut up, Scorp! It’s just a stupid t-shirt. I just _knew_ you were going to mention it eventually!”

“I get the feeling that you’re happy with your career choice. Is that true?”

“Oh, it’s the best thing that ever happened to me!” Rose exclaimed with a huge smile. “You have no idea how much I love it! Just imagine, I’m not even out of University yet, and I have already been to four expeditions – to Portugal, Egypt, India, and just six days ago I returned from the Taklamakan Desert in China!” 

“How exciting,” said Scorpius dryly but with an amused smile. “Let’s order some food, and you’ll tell me some more. We have a lot to catch up on.”  
During the meal Rose told him all about what had been happening in her life during the last four years, omitting the most intimate and embarrassing details. Scorpius asked a lot of questions but didn’t pry into her private life, for which she was thankful. Finally, while telling him about her last expedition, she decided to show off her first “battle wound”. Taking off the bandage from her left hand, she exposed her slightly swollen and reddened skin, upon which was imprinted a symbol consisting of thin lines that created a surprisingly complex pattern. But the most interesting detail was the fact that the lines were made up of tiny strange signs. 

“What is it? A tattoo?” asked Scorpius, examining the symbol with acute interest. 

“It’s the trace of some ancient curse,” explained Rose a little bit too excitedly. “A real blunder on my part. I slipped in a burial chamber and accidently leaned over a shelf where a cursed urn had been placed. If I wasn’t covered by three layers of protective spells, then… Well, I don’t know what would have happened, because I haven’t finished the translation yet. It might take months… or even years.”

She bandaged her hand again and then, lifting her eyes, saw Scorpius staring at her with an astounded expression.

“Rose!” he exclaimed incredulously. “…Merlin, I thought you were working in some dusty archives, reading old books and such!”

“I think you’re confusing an archeologist with an archivist, Scorp,” said Rose with a giggle, amused by her friend’s ignorance. But it wasn’t surprising – most people had very little understanding of what archeologists did. “Though we do spend a lot of time in archives and libraries,” she added as an afterthought. 

“Damn it, I’m serious here, Rose! It’s not worth risking your life for… I don’t even know for what exactly. Why would anyone want to go to some godforsaken place to dig out ancient bones? Who the heck needs these… _discoveries_ in the modern world?” He said the word “discoveries” in such a contemptuous tone that Rose couldn’t suppress another giggle. She had heard these exact words many times before, and for some reason they never ceased to amuse her. 

“I knew you wouldn’t understand. Most people don’t. It’s… it’s not just my profession, it’s my passion, my obsession… It’s…”

“Yes, I already got that you are prone to unhealthy obsessions,” interrupted Scorpius, clearly annoyed. “And none of them seem to do you any good.” 

Rose smiled, touched by his genuine concern. “Don’t worry, Scorp,” she said gently, “I do know how to protect myself. Every archeologist does, because DADA is a required course in every year of University. See, the curse didn’t harm me. I was already checked by healers, and they assured me that I was perfectly healthy.” Then with a mischievous smile she added smugly, “Actually, I am quite proud of it, and I know that I’ll enjoy showing it off for the rest of my life.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes, “You’re crazy, do you know that?” 

She laughed out loud. “Yes, I do know that. All archeologists are. But enough about me… Albus told me that you were studying law. How’s that going?”

He shrugged. “It’s quite boring. But it’s a must for every Malfoy. Just like finance and politics. At least, that’s what I’ve been told since the day I was born,” he added dryly. 

“Well, judging by what they write about you in all the gossip columns, your life is not boring at all,” Rose said sarcastically. 

“Oh, so you’ve been following news about my private life, huh?” He looked rather pleased. “How uncouth of you.”

“Well, it seems that you enjoy publicizing your _private_ life so much, that hearing news about it is pretty much inescapable.”

He gave her a trademark Malfoy smile: lazy, lopsided and a bit smug. “Can’t blame a bloke for being handsome, rich and famous.”

“Ah, I can see your propensity to boast is as strong as ever.”

Arching his eyebrows amusedly, he asked, “What, you don’t think me handsome?”

“You know very well that you are handsome, Scorp,” Rose answered with an ironic smile, “don’t expect _me_ to stroke your giant ego. I am sure you have enough women who do it regularly and with great pleasure.”

“You’re right, they do love stroking my ego…” for a moment he left this phrase hanging in the air, and then added innocently, “And not only my ego…” 

He laughed when Rose made a face as if tasting something sour. “Please, _do not_ say such things if you don’t want me to throw up right on this table!” 

“You’re the only woman who would ever say something like that to me,” he said with a chortle. “And the only one who can call me out on my crap.” 

“Ah, I can do it every single day, if you wish,” she answered acerbically. “It would be my pleasure.”

He laughed again and, suddenly taking her hand, squeezed it gently. “Merlin, Rose, you’ve no idea how much I missed you.” 

Rose gave him a bright, fond smile, feeling a rush of affection for this man, who had always been closer to her than her own brother. Squeezing his hand back, she said softly, “I missed you too, Scorpius. More than I have ever missed anyone else…”

 _‘Except for his father,’_ a tiny voice whispered in her head, and as much as Rose wanted to disagree with this voice she couldn’t. 

Later that evening, sitting in bed with a cup of chamomilla tea, Rose thought about Scorpius and their conversation. She felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders – the weight of guilt and loneliness. _‘How could I have pushed him away?’_ she wondered with genuine surprise. _‘He’s nothing like Mr. Malfoy! They are so different!’_

Indeed, if before Rose had noticed only the similarities between the two Malfoys, now she could clearly see the differences. Scorpius had inherited features from both his father and mother, which made him much more handsome than Mr. Malfoy. His face was more proportional: his forehead less wide and features less pointy, his eyes larger and brighter and his lips fuller. He was even a bit taller and his shoulders were broader. …Generally, she realised, Scorpius looked more like his grandfather, Lucius, whom she had seen in many portraits hanging on the walls of Malfoy Manor. But, despite Scorpius’s more-conventional handsomeness, there was something… _lacking_. Rose couldn’t understand what it was exactly, but she knew that Mr. Malfoy possessed this “something” that his son did not, and this mysterious feature or quality had mesmerized her even from when she was a little girl. 

Putting the empty cup on the bedside table, Rose extinguished the lights and got under the covers. Then she hugged her pillow and smiled. Now, with her best friend back in her life, the future seemed brighter and life easier. Next year she would finish University and would find a job, and maybe in five or six years she would have enough money to buy a small, cozy apartment… 

And one day… one day she would meet a man, with whom she would fall in love and who would love her in return. Rose only wished that this day would come sooner. She was so tired of being lonely…


	10. Chapter 10

After graduating from University with flying colours and excellent recommendations, Rose had no problem finding a job. 

In just a couple weeks she was hired by the Archeological Department of the Parisian Museum of Magical History. This museum had a reputation as one of the best in the world, and the administration spared no expense on research and expeditions, as well as remuneration for their employees. Since Rose was a young professional without any scientific degrees, her salary wasn’t high, but it was more than enough for her to live comfortably as long as she was economical. 

In the course of the following two years Rose was completely absorbed in her work, participating in expeditions and international conferences, improving her skills and expanding her knowledge, learning to communicate with people from different cultures and all kinds of backgrounds. She was happy with her career and satisfied with her life, even though she still hadn’t found that ‘special someone’, for whom she had been looking so desperately. 

During the long, lonely nights when sleep was eluding her, Rose would lie wide awake, staring into the darkness of her bedroom, her soul aching from the need to be loved, her body begging for the touch of a gentle, male hand. Never had she thought that the need to be loved could feel as strong and powerful as the basic needs to quench thirst and satisfy hunger. 

And yet she couldn’t find the courage to invite a man into her life, or even agree on a date. The fear of being rejected and ridiculed held her fast in its unforgiving claws. Too vividly she remembered the unbearable, sickening humiliation that had followed the few intimate encounters she had had. This was not something she ever wanted to experience again. Rose knew that it was cowardly to hide from life like a frightened child, letting this fear rule her. But she couldn’t fight it, because it was so much stronger than her, and so far beyond her control…

During those endless nights, Rose tried hard to find a way to bring some peace to her troubled soul. ‘I don’t need a man in my life to be happy,’ she would think to herself. ‘ _I have a wonderful job, a loving family and great friends. I am physically healthy and sound of mind. I am not starving, or living in the fear of imminent death like so many people in this world… Even if I don’t find a man with whom I could fall in love, I can still choose to have a child and be happy. Yes, my life is great. I have nothing to complain about. Nothing at all…_ ’

But it didn’t matter how many times Rose repeated this mantra – she couldn’t force this lie to become the truth. 

Rose’s twenty-fifth birthday happened to be on Wednesday, so she decided to celebrate it on Friday night with her colleagues and friends. But the evening of her actual birthday she was spending alone. When the clock struck 10PM – the time of her birth – she opened a bottle of champagne, poured some in a juice glass and sat on the windowsill in her living room. 

The room was dark and quiet behind her, and through the window she could see the apartment building across the street. Most of the windows were lit, and behind some of them she could discern black figures of people moving around the rooms and doing what all people did in the evening before another day of work or study. 

Suddenly, a horrible feeling of loneliness pierced through her soul and gripped her heart with its ruthless fist. 

It was so unexpected, so shocking and _brutal_ that Rose froze with her eyes wide open, her mind frantically trying to find a way to deal with this unimaginable pain. The glass fell from her shaking hand on the floor, splashing the remainder of its bubbly, liquid contents all over the carpet. For one long, dreadful minute she struggled to breathe, gasping loudly, tugging her shirt collar, scratching her spasming throat... When the attack was over Rose drew a few full, shuddering breaths, then impulsively covered her face with her hands and _screamed_. 

The agony was… unbearable. It felt as if a dam had burst – a dam that had been holding all the feelings Rose had tried so hard to suppress; not just loneliness, but bitter anger, shame, a feeling of helplessness, overwhelming fear, and even self-hatred – for being so pitiful, for being defective. When was the last time she was happy, truly happy? She couldn’t remember. _She couldn’t remember_. Why was this happening to her? What had she done so terrible to deserve this? What was _wrong_ with her? Would it ever stop? Or would she be lonely and miserable till the end of her days? 

For these questions she had no answers. 

Exhausted and faint, Rose stood up, made several stumbling steps and fell on the couch. She wanted to cry, but her eyes were dry. She wanted to fall asleep, but the so-needed relief never came. She wanted to jump from the couch and break everything she could break, but her limbs were limp. She could only lie there, weak and motionless, until the first rays of the morning sun gently caressed her face. Then, with a heavy sigh, she forced herself to get up. 

Maybe this was what she needed. Maybe this violent outburst was a healthy reaction – a frantic attempt of her mind to rid itself of all its dark, destructive emotions. Rose didn’t know, and didn’t want to think about it. The night was over, a new day had begun, and she had to move on. 

This year, Rose’s only birthday wish was to finally accept herself such as she was, and to stop yearning for something she might never have.

* * *

Soon, the demands and responsibilities of everyday life forced Rose to snap out of the dull melancholic state that had followed the shameful episode on her birthday night. The preparations for the expedition to the Amazon rainforests in Brazil were in full gear, so she simply had no time to dwell on her upsetting thoughts.

On the appointed day she went to the Ministry of Magic to collect her visa and other documents required for the expedition.  
Heading for the exit, Rose browsed the papers as she walked, to make sure one last time that everything was in order. Noticing a small spelling mistake, she frowned, annoyed, and lowered herself on one of the stone benches in the Main Hall to read the document more carefully before going back to the Department of International Affairs. 

As she read, she gradually became aware of a strange, tingling feeling of being watched.

Lifting her eyes from her papers, her gaze connected with a person standing still in the middle of the crowd of scurrying ministry workers and visitors, staring intently down at her. 

She froze. 

It was the last person on earth she had ever expected to see… Mr Malfoy. He was looking at her with a gentle and somewhat surprised smile that softened the strong, sharp features of his handsome face. He was dressed in a stylish charcoal-grey suit with a stark white shirt and a dark-blue tie, and held a slim briefcase in his left hand. 

She sat, petrified to the spot, watching him with wide-open eyes as he approached her, easily maneuvering amongst the hurrying people. 

He made a slight, elegant bow and said, “Hello, Rose.” His voice, which she forced herself to forget so long ago, was deep and husky with a low, sensuous timbre. It slid over her like a caress and stirred something deep inside of her, quickening her pulse and making her face flush. 

For a moment she simply stared up at him, unable to move, speak, or even breathe. 

Slightly curving one eyebrow, Mr. Malfoy tilted his head to one side, his silvery gaze intense and unreadable, but his expression soft and welcoming. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted that this discordance was strange, disturbing even, but Rose couldn’t bring herself to care about it. Suddenly, the papers she had been holding in her hands fell, rustling, to the floor, and this quiet sound snapped her out of her frozen state. 

“H-hello, Mr. M-Malfoy,” she stammered in a tiny, trembling voice, which made her cringe with embarrassment. 

With a graceful sweep of his wand, he collected her documents from the floor and handed them to Rose with a vaguely amused smile curving his thin, sharply defined lips. Without even looking at them, she crammed the papers into her small leather backpack. 

“Are you alright, my dear?” he asked gently. 

“Yes…” Rose answered in the same small voice, which she was totally unable to change or control. “I just… I haven’t seen you for so long…”

“Indeed. You’ve become quite a woman, Rose. So very beautiful. I always knew you’d be stunning as an adult.” 

He smiled when she flushed a deep shade of red. Dressed in simple denims and a cornflower blue shirt, with her hair as wild as ever, Rose didn’t feel “beautiful” or “stunning” at that moment. Not to mention that, as often happened in the periods between her expeditions, she had gained some weight, which made her excruciatingly self-conscious. It hurt her deeply that Mr. Malfoy would say such a thing just to be polite. 

Biting her lower lip, she lowered her gaze to her noticeably trembling hands, not knowing what to say. 

“Well, now I can see that you are _not_ alright,” Rose heard him say and, looking up, saw that he was gazing at her with a slight frown on his face and concern in his eyes. 

Immediately she felt ashamed for her idiotic behavior. Mr. Malfoy didn’t mean it as a joke. He was just being his usual courteous self. 

“I’m sorry,” Rose said with a shy, if somewhat forced, smile. “I’m just…” she faltered, struggling to find words to describe her current state of utter confusion, shock and so many other emotions she couldn’t identify at this moment. Finally, she decided to answer with something vague and less personal, “it was just a bit… unexpected. Meeting you after all these years, I mean…” 

Instantly she realised that Mr. Malfoy saw right through her lie. He didn’t comment on it, however. Instead he said, “I’m going to lunch now. Would you like to join me? It would give me great pleasure if you did.”

“Yes, I will… Thank you…” these words spilled out of her mouth on their own accord, before she could stop them. A tiny voice in her head desperately begged her to refuse his offer and to run -- run as fast as she could, and as far as it was possible. At this moment Rose knew, as clearly as she knew her own name, that she wasn’t over him, that she didn’t get this obsession “out of her system”, and that as long as she lived she wouldn’t be able to forget Mr. Malfoy. 

With helpless trepidation she watched herself, as if from afar, taking his courteously-offered hand and getting up from the bench, then following him outside, letting him apparate her to… well Rose didn’t really know to where, because she was unable to pay attention to her surroundings. She could only see him – his smiling face, his beautiful grey eyes, his enticing lips, moving as he was telling her something. Rose answered automatically, but for the life of her she couldn’t comprehend what exactly they were talking about. 

Then she found herself sitting across from him, on a plush chair at an elegantly-laid table. Probably, Mr. Malfoy understood that Rose was incapable of making any decisions at that moment, because he ordered lunch for both of them, and let the waiter pour steaming coffee into both cups. 

With detached astonishment, Rose watched Mr. Malfoy adding a dash of cream and two teaspoons of sugar into her cup – exactly how she preferred it. How could he possibly remember that after all these years? She didn’t remember how he took his coffee, despite the fact that in the past they had shared many meals at the Malfoy Manor. 

Suddenly he said something, looking at her attentively. Rose didn’t understand a single word – she simply stared at him with wide blue eyes, an expression of undisguised shock, vulnerability and even something akin to fear written plainly all over her face. And she was afraid of him at that moment. Or, rather, she _was_ afraid of the fierce, uncontrollable reaction of her body and mind to the presence of this enigmatic man. 

Slowly, as if afraid to scare her, he took her hand into his and squeezed it gently. At this unexpected touch Rose jumped, as if hit by electric current. Mr. Malfoy curved his eyebrows, looking perplexed.

“Rose…” he said very softly, “tell me what’s wrong, my dear…” he faltered, frowning slightly, and abruptly released her hand. “Am I being overly familiar with you? If so, then I apologise…”

“No, no!” Rose cried, terrified by the thought that she had offended him. “I am just…” she nervously ran her hand through her hair, frustrated with herself. “It’s I who should apologise. I don’t know what came over me. I can be such an _idiot_ sometimes!”

He laughed, evidently amused. His low, sensual laughter and dazzling smile robbed her of breath. Rose shivered, feeling goosebumps raise on her skin, and a warm, fluttery sensation settling low in her stomach. She lowered her eyes and bit her lip, hard, trying to pull herself together. God, if only this man knew what he was doing to her… To be this close to him after all these years, to hear his voice, to feel his rich, intoxicating scent… it was _torture_. 

And he did know, Rose realised, when, looking up, she encountered his gaze, which once again became unreadable. Now she was unable to understand whether he was pleased or annoyed by this discovery. _‘No, he must be simply disappointed in you, little half-wit!’_ she thought, deeply, woefully ashamed of herself. _‘He probably invited you for lunch, believing that you were a mature, self-assured and smart woman. And now he thinks that you haven’t changed at all, that you are still the stupid, little girl who begged him to take her…’_

Taking the napkin from her knees, Rose put it on the edge of the table. “I am sorry for my behaviour, Mr. Malfoy,” she said quietly, “I think it would be better if I leave now…”

He leaned back in his chair, looking at her with a calm, controlled expression. “Don’t leave, Rose,” he said gently. “I understand that our last encounter was… unconventional, to say the least. But it was eight years ago. We both are adults now. Surely, we can leave that episode behind us? I’d like us to be friends again.” 

Rose audibly swallowed, not daring to meet his eyes. It hurt her that he talked so dispassionately about that unreal night that had turned her whole world upside down. But at the same time, she felt gratitude for his addressing the elephant in the room in such a straightforward manner, without mocking or teasing her. It also was a relief to know that he believed these memories to be the cause of her turmoil. If Mr. Malfoy knew that after all these years she still was obsessed with him, her humiliation would be unbearable. 

“Would it be easier for you if you knew that as a teenager I was so infatuated with one of my mother’s friends that once, when she was staying in the Manor, I sneaked into her bedroom with the intention of stealing her knickers?” he said suddenly in a rather dry tone. 

Upon hearing this, Rose stared at him, open-mouthed, not quite believing her ears. She had never imagined that this reserved man would ever share something so private with her. 

She could feel that there was more to this story, and, curious despite herself, she asked shyly, “And what happened next?” 

He chuckled. “Well, to my great embarrassment, the lady entered her dressing room right in time to catch me elbow-deep in her underwear drawer.” 

At this, Rose couldn’t help giggling. Arching his eyebrow, Mr. Malfoy drawled sarcastically, “I’m glad that you find it amusing, my dear. _I_ , however, was _not_ amused at that moment. Far from it, in fact.”

“What did she do? Did you get punished?” 

Mr. Malfoy smiled broadly and shook his head. “Au contraire, I was _rewarded_. Thankfully, the lady had a great sense of humor, so, instead of informing my parents about my atrocious behavior, she assured me that my curiosity was perfectly healthy for a fourteen-year-old boy. However, she said, stealing a lady’s favourite and most expensive underwear was not a good thing to do. After that she presented me with a simpler momento for me to keep, which happened to be the knickers she was wearing at that moment.”

Taking in Rose’s shocked expression, he laughed, tilting his head back.

“But you were a _child_!” she cried indignantly. “For an adult, it was a completely inappropriate and irresponsible thing to do! It’s called child molestation!”

His eyes were sparkling with humor and amusement when he looked at her flushed face, disapprovingly pursed lips and frowning brow. 

“So easily scandalized,” he teased. “You should know then, that for every teenage boy such a gift would be akin to manna from heaven. And I _did_ cherish that gift. I saved it for five years after that memorable night, until one of my so-called friends stole it.” After a short pause he added with an exaggeratedly sad sigh, “I am still trying to figure out who it was, but, it seems, the mystery is doomed to remain unsolved.”

Rose laughed at his sorrowful expression. A sweet, warm feeling bloomed in her chest when Mr. Malfoy smiled back at her. This man still had the same effect on her as eight years ago – no matter how terrible she felt, in a matter of moments he could put her at ease. 

“Is this the curse Scorpius was telling me about?” Mr. Malfoy suddenly asked, looking at the symbol on her left hand. “May I take a closer look?”

Rose agreed with a timid smile and almost managed to suppress a shiver that ran through her when he gently took her small, cold hand into his larger and much warmer one. 

“What do these logograms mean?” he asked, studying the picture attentively. 

Surprised that he even knew such a word and its meaning, Rose bent her head and started translating, running the tip of her index finger along the lines. 

But when she lifted her eyes, Rose realised that Mr. Malfoy wasn’t looking at the symbol. Instead his gaze was fixed on her face, and there was the same strange, special expression in his eyes that she had cherished so much as a teenager. 

“You’ve changed so much, Rose,” he murmured. “And yet, somehow, remained the same... I am glad that the curse didn’t harm you. It would be an irretrievable loss to me if something happened to you…”

A wave of deep, sweet affection washed over her at these words. “I’m g-glad too…” she stammered, her heart fluttering in her chest like a little bird who wanted to fly out of its cage, straight into the warm hands of the man it had belonged to since Rose was but a small twelve-year-old girl… 

Rose didn’t even notice how time passed, and very soon the lunch was over, and she found herself standing outside the restaurant, with Mr. Malfoy holding her hand and asking for her address. He invited her for dinner later, and she agreed. Then he kissed her wrist and bid her farewell. 

Rose went home, vaguely wondering if it had just been a dream, or if she had indeed been awake all this time. And it did feel like a dream – she felt detached from reality, the faces of people around her blurred into one grey, hazy mass, the sound of their voices nothing but a low, indistinct hum… Her movements were strangely slow, as if she was moving through water, and her mind was numb. 

The kiss on the delicate skin of her wrist felt hot and tingly, as if it was a mark that had been burned by a branding iron. _His_ mark on _her_ skin, proclaiming his ownership and her submission. …If only it was true! 

And with something close to fear, Rose realised that she would have given a half of her life for that to become true…

* * *

By the time evening came, Rose managed to rein in her tumultuous emotions.

 _‘It’s just dinner, nothing else,’_ she told herself, standing in front of her small vanity mirror and trying on a few cocktail dresses she had. _‘Don’t read too much into this. He said he wanted to be friends again, and most probably that is exactly what he meant. Just “friends”. Don’t ruin it with your stupidity…’_

After she chose a dress, she started putting on makeup, but couldn’t concentrate on the process. Instead, she kept replaying the events of the day in her head. All her thoughts were revolving around the imagine of Mr. Malfoy. _‘God, he is so handsome… He hasn’t changed at all… How could I forget his voice, his smell? …How could I forget his beautiful hands, his graceful fingers…’_

 _‘Graceful and exceptionally skilled fingers,’_ a naughty voice whispered somewhere in her mind. 

At the mere memory of what these fingers were capable of, Rose let out a throaty groan as her nipples tightened to deliciously sensitive tips, and a sweet, exquisite ache settled deep in her pelvis, making the place between her legs wet and tingly. 

_‘No, Rose,’_ she chided herself, _‘do NOT think about it! Get a grip, for god’s sake! Don’t forget how perceptive he is! The second he sees you, he’ll know exactly what you’ve been thinking about! Do you want to embarrass yourself even more?!’_

For a moment she pondered about this unique talent that both Mr. Malfoy and Scorpius possessed – the ability to “read” people’s minds, to know when someone was trying to hide something, and to immediately discern a lie from a truth. Was it merely a genetic quality, or was Legilimency another “must” for every Malfoy, along with law, finance, and politics? Quite possibly. Quite possibly both of these hypotheses were true.

Of course, it didn’t help at all that, for the life of her, Rose couldn’t hide her thoughts and emotions from others. She had been told so many times by different people. “Your face is like an open book,” – she had heard this stupid, cliché phrase on so many occasions that it had started grating on her nerves. 

Another cliché phrase she hated was: “There should be a mystery in a woman”, because there was nothing mysterious about her. Nothing at all. She was plain, and simple, and…

“And fat,” mumbled Rose looking at herself in the mirror with disgust. Merlin, why did she have to eat so much ice-cream!? It was a hot summer, and one of her guilty pleasures was to have an ice-cream on her way home from work. Unfortunately, a lot of things that were OK for naturally thin women, didn’t agree with her at all. If she had known that she was going to meet Mr. Malfoy, she would had made sure to stay on a strict diet for a month and to hit the gym every day. 

Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she weighed her large, heavy breasts in her palms, then squeezed the soft flesh of her stomach, then turned to take a look at her overly-plump bum. Her waist retained a graceful dip, but it didn’t make Rose feel any better. 

_‘God, how could I have left myself go like this?’_ she thought, ashamed and annoyed at herself. _‘Thankfully, the expedition is soon, I always lose a lot of weight during expeditions. I only wish Mr. Malfoy hadn’t seen me like this. What If he thinks I’m fat? Why did he call me “stunning”? It was such a cruel thing to say! I might not be as perceptive as he is, but did he really think that I’d fall for such a ridiculous compliment?’_

With a heavy sigh Rose hurriedly squeezed herself into a cocktail dress, fearing that she might lose whatever courage she had left. This dress was the only custom-made piece of clothing she owned, and it had been designed with the sole purpose to make her appear slimmer. It was of rich, dark-blue colour with a hugging bodice, elbow-length black lace sleeves and a flared skirt that fluttered around her knees. A deep elegant V-neck miraculously made her large breasts appear smaller, at the same time allowing a glimpse at the enticing hollow between them. The dress was too costly for her budget, but Rose believed it was worth it, because she did feel attractive and confident wearing it. 

She tamed her wild curls into the waterfall of shimmering waves, then put on the most beautiful piece of jewelry she owned: a pair of shoulder-length golden earrings encrusted with sapphires – a graduation gift from Marion. Elegant black shoes and a clutch completed her attire. 

Giving herself a final look in the mirror, Rose smiled, relieved. Now, when all the extra-flesh was hidden beneath the confines of the dress, she indeed looked beautiful. _‘Merlin, I hope Mr. Malfoy will not be disappointed,’_ she thought, her chest tightening with a mixture of excitement and worry. 

Glancing at the clock, she realised that she could not stall any longer without the risk of being late – and she recalled perfectly Mr. Malfoy’s high regard for punctuality.

Her heart beating wildly against her ribs, Rose took her wand and apparated. 

 

**A/N**

Guys, I forgot to mention in the fic’s description that in this story I wanted to address certain stereotypes, common in fanfiction and love stories in general. As you probably noticed, in this chapter I tackled the topic of modern beauty “standards”. 

In my story Rose is what they nowadays call a “plus-size” woman. She is a beautiful, voluptuous woman of short stature (well, depends of what you consider “short” - here I meant something like five feet and one or two inches) with sloping shoulders, large breasts, wide hips, lush buttocks, and soft stomach. She also has dimples on her hips and bum, and these cute, rounded elbows and knees which only curvy women have. If you ran your hand down her body, you wouldn’t feel a single bone - only soft, pliant flesh. 

The rest you already know – snow-white, almost translucent skin sprinkled with golden freckles; oval face with gently rounded jawline; large, round, sky-blue, expressive eyes; full lips; and, of course, wild, long, flaming-red hair. She also has this gentle, vulnerable, and a bit naïve expression – a natural feature of her face, not merely an expression. 

In the Epoch of Renaissance such a woman would grace paintings of great artists, but due to modern, idiotic standards of skinny beauty Rose doesn’t consider herself beautiful – she is ashamed of her curvy body, and it makes her extremely, painfully self-conscious. When she looks at herself in the mirror, she sees only “flaws”, like many people with low self-esteem do. That’s why I’m describing her appearance here – the story is 3POV, and Rose wouldn’t be able to give herself enough credit when describing herself. Let’s hope that Draco will be able to teach her to see and appreciate her unique beauty.

In all of my previous stories my main heroines always were short, skinny, flat-chested and somewhat plain-looking young women. In their comments some readers snidely suggested that by making such women main characters, I was “compensating for something”. 

Funnily enough, the same comments I received on HDD. Again, by making a curvy large-breasted woman a main heroine, I somehow was compensating for my own flaws. How funny is that, huh? I also got a couple of comments of this character: “A wealthy, handsome man like Draco would never fall for a ‘short fatty’”. Even though I make a point not to delete critical comments, I deleted those reviews because they were rude, insensitive, and plainly idiotic. I hope that English readers are capable to appreciate female beauty and sexuality in all of their exciting forms. 

Also, I forgot about one warning – non/con. Sorry about that!


	11. Chapter 11

All Rose’s worries proved for naught – the instant Mr. Malfoy saw her, genuine admiration shone in his usually-dispassionate eyes. Bending gracefully, he kissed her hand, then straightened up and ran an appreciative gaze over the length of her body. 

“You are breathtakingly beautiful, Rose,” he said quietly, looking into her eyes. 

Blushing, Rose smiled brilliantly and stammered, “Thank you, Mr. M-Malfoy,” forgetting to give the customary reciprocal compliment, although she thought him dazzlingly handsome in his sharply-tailored black dinner attire. The pleasure she felt at his praise was so intense that it had an actual physical effect on her akin to the aftershocks of an orgasm.  
“Are you cold, my dear?” he asked, feeling her shivering slightly. 

“N-no¬ – I mean, a… a little…” answered Rose, thankful for the late-night breeze, which indeed was a bit cool. 

“Then allow me to apparate you to the place where we will be dining. I am sure you will be warm there.” So saying, he entwined her arm with his and made the turn, transporting them to the richly-decorated foyer of a restaurant Rose didn’t recognise. 

Immediately the maître d'hôte appeared in front of them, who, with deep bows and reverent smiles, escorted them to a private room. Rose couldn’t suppress a gasp when she saw a large, floor-to-ceiling window that offered a spectacular, panoramic view of Paris at night, in all its dazzling beauty. Only now she realized that the restaurant, or, at least, this part of it, was situated on the top floor of a very tall building. There was an impressively-served round table by the window, and against one wall a velvet sofa stood with a coffee table in front of it. The room was adorned with exquisite floral compositions, and the air was filled with beautiful, ambient music. 

While the atmosphere of the room was meant to be relaxing, with every passing second Rose was feeling increasingly uncomfortable and insecure. These luxurious surroundings practically screamed wealth and high society, which made her feel like an unwelcome intruder. She’d have preferred it if Mr. Malfoy had chosen a simpler restaurant, even though the mere thought of this seemed ridiculous. A “Malfoy” and “simple” did not go together under any circumstances. 

Refusing the waiter’s assistance, Mr. Malfoy insisted on seating Rose himself, holding her chair with suave gallantry, then lowered himself on the opposite chair. 

“Is everything to your liking, my dear?” he suddenly asked, probably noticing by her expression that something was wrong.

“Everything is perfect,” answered Rose hurriedly, afraid to appear rude or ungrateful. “Um… I’m just… I’m not used to such elegant places…” 

He smiled softly. “Just try to relax. The place doesn’t matter as long as we are enjoying each other’s company… Not to mention that here we are safe from intrusion by the paparazzi and public. It is the primary reason why I prefer to dine in restaurants that offer private rooms.”

“Oh… I understand…” she uttered, surprised that this thought hadn’t crossed her mind. 

At this moment, the waiter presented her the menu with a courteous bow. Opening the heavy leather cover, Rose scanned the menu and frowned perplexedly, noticing that the prices were not listed. For a long moment she was tormented by an agony of indecision, dreading to choose some awfully expensive dish. Rose knew that it was ridiculous, seeing that she was dining with one of wealthiest wizards in the world, but she couldn’t help it. 

“Don’t be so shy, Rose,” Mr. Malfoy’s quiet voice interrupted her troubled musings. “Feel free to choose whatever you want. It will be my greatest pleasure to see you enjoying yourself tonight.”

She looked up at him with a blush, realising that he had been watching her all this time. His eyes were so gentle and understanding, that the uncomfortable tension which had been squeezing her insides instantly disappeared, and Rose let out a tiny sigh of relief. 

“Alright…” she answered with a timid smile, “then I’ll have warm lobster in a summer preparation. I’ve always wanted to try that dish.”

“Ah, an excellent choice! It’s a favorite of mine. …What about wine? Do you have any preferences?”

For some reason Rose found this question amusing. “I don’t know the first thing about it,” she said with a giggle. 

Mr. Malfoy smiled, evidently glad to hear her laugh. “Then, I hope you don’t mind if I choose?” he asked, accepting a leather-bound wine-menu from the sommelier. 

“Not at all,” Rose quickly assured him, somewhat intimidated by the thickness of the book. “I am sure you have an excellent taste in wine.”

Their orders were ready in no time, and very soon delicious food and wine soothed away her anxiety and insecurity. Mr. Malfoy was a wonderful dinner companion – he encouraged Rose to talk about her job and travels, her friends and University years, and the conversation flowed easily and naturally, without any tension-filled interruptions or uncomfortable silences. Somehow, he knew not to ask any private questions, for which Rose was grateful. At the same time, he talked very little about himself, smoothly redirecting the conversation back to its previous course any time Rose tried to ask him something about his own life. 

“I am glad to see that you found your true calling,” Mr. Malfoy said sincerely, when she stopped to catch her breath. 

Rose bit her lip, watching him refill her glass. It was her third glass of wine, and she was not used to having a lot of alcohol. _‘I should slow down,’_ she thought half-heartedly. But it was so difficult to control herself in his delightful company! He had put her completely at ease in such an effortless, subtle way, that Rose didn’t even notice when she started telling him more about herself than she probably should have. Thankfully, she had caught herself in time before she blurted any details about her non-existent romantic and sex life. However, what she had told him was enough for Mr. Malfoy to surmise that she had been lonely for a while, and that she hadn’t been used to going on dates. To Rose’s great relief he didn’t comment on it. 

When dessert was brought in, Mr. Malfoy indicated the plates to be served on the coffee-table, then dismissed the waiter from the room. He stood and held his hand out to Rose with a charming smile that made her insides melt. “Let’s move to the couch,” he said. “I seem to remember that as a young girl you loved having ice-cream, curled up on a chair or sofa, savouring every spoon. …Or has that changed?”

Rose laughed. “God, of course, not!” she exclaimed, beaming at him as she took his hand and allowed him to escort her to the sumptuous velvet couch. “I’m still the same, unfortunately!”

“Why ‘unfortunately’?”

She grimaced a little self-consciously. “Like every woman, I dread even to think about gaining an extra pound.” 

He smiled, amused. “You shouldn’t worry about that. You have a ravishing figure.”

Rose flushed with exquisite pleasure at his praise. Just to hear those words coming from his lips made her almost giddy with excitement and pure happiness. He, _Mr. Malfoy_ , thought her “stunning”, “breathtaking” and “ravishing”. He admired her like a man admired a desired woman. It seemed nothing in the world could make her happier! 

Later, they sat together on the velvet couch, sipping wine, while Rose contentedly listened to Mr. Malfoy talk about all the renovations he had made at Malfoy Manor, the pieces of art he had purchased, and even about some charitable projects he had been funding. 

“You have such beautiful earrings,” he said suddenly, making her draw a surprised breath as he leaned in closer to look at them. “Having an extensive knowledge of fine jewellery, I can tell that they are quite expensive. …A gift from an admirer?”

At this, Rose couldn’t help laughing out loud. The thought that any man could give her such a gift seemed ridiculous. “No, this is a gift from a friend of mine,” she answered with a giggle. “I told you about her – an old lady who owns the antique shop where I used to work as a student. Do you remember?” 

“Yes, I remember that. You must be very dear to her…” tilting his head to one side, Mr. Malfoy looked at her attentively. “Why did you find my question so amusing?” 

If Rose hadn’t had three glasses of wine, she would have probably given some elusive answer to avoid further questions, but she felt so relaxed and comfortable in his presence that the thought of lying didn’t even cross her mind. “Anyone who knows me well would have found that question ridiculous,” she answered with a slight shrug. 

As soon as she uttered these words, Rose realised how incredibly stupid it was to say something like that. _Especially_ to Mr. Malfoy. Straightening abruptly, she bit her lip, feelings of shame and humiliation filling her chest and making her face burn.

“Why do you so?” Mr. Malfoy asked quietly.

Rose frowned and lowered her gaze to her hands, nervously fidgeting with the folds of her dress. After a long pause, trying to look nonchalant and not miserable, she murmured, “I have no admirers.”

“It is hard to believe that such a beautiful woman doesn’t have a horde of admirers.”

Rose felt her lips curve into a bitter smile. “No, there is none. Nor has ever been one, except for a few who are not worth mentioning. And even that was a long time ago.”

Trying to hide tears that suddenly welled up in her eyes, Rose took a gulp of wine, then put the glass on the table, her fingers trembling so much that she couldn’t hold it properly. 

“I don’t understand…” he said softly. “Can you tell me more?” His quiet voice had an almost hypnotic effect on her, and Rose had to fight the urge to open up to him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered with a shake her head. A sole tear slowly rolled down her cheek and fell on her wrist. Absent-mindedly, Rose wiped it from her skin.

“I will never betray your trust, little Red,” murmured Mr. Malfoy. “Tell me everything. I want to know.” 

This sweet endearment stripped Rose of the last shreds of resolve, and words poured out of her as if on their own volition, “When… when men t-touch me… I… I feel nothing at all, except for discomfort and detachment… and plain _disgust_. And I… I h-hate every second of it… My last lover called me…” her throat spasmed, and she had to force out the ugly word that she despised more than any other word, “he called me… f-frigid. And since then I’ve never dated anyone… and… and…”

She fell silent, breathing heavily, her heart pumping painfully in her chest, her vision blurry with tears. She was petrified, mortified by her own words. Not in a thousand years had Rose thought that she would share this shameful secret with anyone, least of all— _him_! Frozen with horror, she waited for his response. 

Mr. Malfoy was silent for what seemed like an eternity. “I have had a great many of women, Rose,” he said finally. “Trust me when I say this – you are not frigid. You are passionate, sensual… so beautifully responsive…”

“You cannot know that,” whispered Rose.

“I had a chance to experience it myself.”

“It was a long time ago. I have changed…”

For several long, torturous moments Mr. Malfoy simply stared at her, without saying a word. Rose could feel his eyes on her face, but couldn’t bring herself to meet them. She wanted to hide from his intense, unwavering gaze, to run away from this man who so insidiously, so easily forced her to bare her soul for him. And she did feel _bare_ , all her secrets and insecurities, all her pain, and shame, and vulnerability – everything laid out before him, for his scrutiny and his judgement…  
Suddenly she heard him incanting an locking and sound-proofing charm, and she couldn’t help but look up at him, startled, her lips forming an “O” of surprise. 

“These earrings are too heavy for your ears,” he murmured, leaning slowly over her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his lean body. “Let me take them off…”

Rose shivered at his touch as he removed her earrings. Very gently he massaged first one, then the second aching earlobe, and she whimpered, feeling sweet impulses of arousal firing into the peaks of her breasts and in between her legs. Then his fingers slipped into the heavy mass of her curls and pulled slightly, causing an exquisite sting of pain that coursed through her body like lightning, making her gasp. Firmly, he made her lean back on the couch. In the soft, subdued light of the room his pale face, full of sharp lines and angles, and his mesmerising silvery eyes, seemed to belong to a deadly predator – one of those ruthless creatures who put their prey into a trance before eating it alive. And yet Rose knew that he would never harm her, that she would always be safe in his arms. Maybe it was a dangerous thing to believe, but she believed it nonetheless. 

For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her; his face was so close to hers that she could feel his hot breath brushing over her lips. Her heart jumped in her chest, and her skin bristled with a thousand tiny goosebumps. God, how she wanted this. So many times she dreamed of it – of his lips pressing against hers, his tongue slowly probing her mouth, caressing her own tongue with subtle expertise… 

In anticipation Rose closed her eyes and leaned slightly forward, letting her mouth go slack… but he held her back, his hand gentle but firm on her shoulder. Acute disappointment pierced through her, some of her previous insecurity resurging, but Mr. Malfoy didn’t let her sink into despair. Softly, soothingly he ran his knuckles down her cheek, then lightly clasped her chin and turned her face away. 

His lips brushed against the flushed skin of her ear, making Rose whimper again. “Let me show you how passionate you truly are, Rose…” he whispered, his voice low, husky, and full of dark promises. 

And then she was shaking uncontrollably at the feel of feather-light kisses sliding along her jawline, and the warm weight of his masculine hand on her knee… His thumb started tracing small languid circles on her skin, but the impact of this delicate touch was akin to an avalanche, every soft brush resonating deeply in her loins, amplified a thousand times. Rose let out a long, shaky breath, feeling herself growing wetter and wetter with each passing second until the gusset of her knickers was sticking uncomfortably against her skin. She wanted so badly to take them off and to open her legs, because the sweet pressure that had been building up between them very soon because unbearable. But an agonizing fear was holding her back – the fear that she wouldn’t be able to climax even to his skillful touch, and that she would disappoint him. 

And so, when his hand tried to insinuate itself between her knees, Rose subconsciously pressed them even more tightly together, not letting his fingers move any further underneath the skirt of her dress. 

“Don’t be afraid, my darling,” Mr. Malfoy murmured. “I won’t hurt you…”

Her voice was so breathless, that she could barely form the words to answer him, “I… I know that you won’t hurt me… But…” she faltered, embarrassed and terrifyingly vulnerable. 

He withdrew slightly to look into her fearful eyes. “But what?” he asked gently. 

Rose gulped, lowering her gaze. “What if I won’t be able to… to…” Unable to finish this sentence she bit her lower lip, an ugly, prickling blush creeping down her face and onto her neck and chest. 

“Then it will be alright,” Mr. Malfoy answered smoothly. “You will still enjoy it, won’t you?”

She stared at him, surprised at these words. The strangest thing of all was the feeling of relief spreading in her chest. He didn’t _expect_ her to come, he simply wanted her to enjoy their time together. That was so different from the other men she had been intimate with. For them, pleasuring her had been a serious task that had to be done in order to achieve the so-much-desired prize… not _her_ prize, but _theirs_ , because its sole purpose had been to stroke their ego, to make them feel manly and proud… This had made Rose feel responsible for the outcome of the process, because she had been afraid to hurt and disappoint them. And the pressure she had felt at the thought that she had been _expected_ to orgasm had extinguished even those smallest flames of desire she had felt. 

How had Mr. Malfoy known that these were the exact words she needed to hear, even though until this moment she herself hadn’t realised it? How was it possible that this man could understand her better that she could understand herself? 

Mr. Malfoy smiled at the undisguised awe and gratitude in Rose’s eyes. “Now, lean back and close your eyes,” he said, his voice suddenly acquiring an authoritative tone she’d never have heard from him before. “Don’t think about anything… simply listen to my words and do as I say…” 

It sounded like an order, not a request, but for some reason it made Rose relax. Now she was stripped of any responsibility for what was about to happen; the only thing she had to do was to obey him and to accept what he was going to do to her… This thought made her dizzy with a fresh wave of arousal. She _wanted_ to obey him. She wanted it more than anything else in the world…

“Good girl…” he whispered, feeling her muscles slacken and the tension slipping away from her body. “Now spread your legs for me, Rose…”

A burning hot arrow of desire ruthlessly pierced through her core at these words, making her gasp loudly. As if on their own volition, her knees parted slightly, allowing his hand to move between them.

“Wider, Rose…” said Mr. Malfoy in the same voice, soft and strict at the same time, like steel wrapped in velvet. “ _Wider_ , I said.” There was a sharp note in his tone now that left no room for disobedience. 

A little scared by this sudden change, Rose spread her legs wide, and immediately his hand slipped under her knee that was pressed against his leg. Pulling it slightly up and to the side, Mr. Malfoy bent her leg over his strong thigh, spreading Rose ever further. 

Against her will, she froze when his fingers slid up the inner part of her thigh, leaving a scorching hot trail in their wake. And then, for several long, torturous minutes she was almost sobbing with need, while he caressed the delicate skin along the edge of her knickers, never quite touching her core, just lightly brushing over it, as if only by accident. Unable to bear this exquisite torture anymore, Rose shyly reached between her legs and tried to push his hand to the place where she wanted to feel it most.

Mr. Malfoy growled low in his throat. “Who told you could do that, little one? Hmmm?” His voice was slightly hoarse, coloured by a dangerous, thrilling darkness. “Did I give you permission to move my hand? To force me to touch your needy cunt? Hmmm? Answer me…”

“N-no…” stammered Rose, shocked by his words. Mr. Malfoy had never talked to her like that. Hell, no one had ever talked to her like that before! But somehow, inexplicably, these crude words and this alarmingly dark tone set her on fire, and she started squirming, feeling that she would go mad if he denied giving her pleasure any longer. 

“No…” he repeated softly, his hungry, silvery gaze pouring into her wide, vulnerable eyes. “Then, unless you want to be punished, I’d advise against you doing that again…”

“P-punished?” she asked breathlessly, for some unfathomable reason absolutely _thrilled_ by this notion. 

His lips curved into a slow, predatory smile, and Mr. Malfoy shook his head slightly. “Don’t think that you’d like being punished by _me_ , little Red. I promise that it would be quite… unpleasant.” He was quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. “Now. I want you to move your hand away. You are not to do anything, unless I tell you so. Do you understand me, Rose?” 

But she didn’t have the chance to answer, because suddenly, without warning, his fingers firmly brushed along the line of her seam, making her cry out in shock. The pleasure she felt at that moment was… indescribable. It seared through her, scorching hot, blinding and _violent_ , rendering her incapable of doing anything else but moaning desperately, wordlessly begging him for…for what exactly she didn’t know, because her mind was torn between the need to stop this torture and the desire to feel it over and over again. 

Slowly, gently, the tip of his finger traced the outlines of the swollen folds of her sex, then started making tiny, lazy circles around the throbbing nub where the sharpest, the sweetest and most pleasurable ache concentrated.

For what seemed like an eternity he teased her with feather-light touches through the damp gusset of her knickers, his warm, soft lips caressing the spot between her neck and shoulder, his teeth lightly grazing her sensitive skin, making her writhe and whimper… 

“Please… please…” she pleaded desperately, her voice raspy and strained. “I need… I want…”

“What? What do you need?” he asked huskily, his lips brushing against her ear once more. “Tell me…” 

And Rose did try to tell him, but her mind, flooded with the rush of emotions and sensations, was incapable of forming coherent phrases and sentences. Instead she looked helplessly, beseechingly into his face, taking in the sinful smile hovering around his mouth, his fathomless, hypnotic eyes... 

“You know what I n-need…” she whispered, barely holding her tears, because it was so cruel of him to tease her like this, denying something she hadn’t felt for years… 

Mr. Malfoy took pity of her then. His other hand slipped underneath her skirt, and he took hold of the sides of her knickers. Breathing heavily in anticipation, Rose lifted her pelvis slightly, letting him pull the scrap of lace down her legs, until it dangled from one of her ankles. 

She squeaked in surprise when he suddenly pulled her onto his knee. Then all thoughts disappeared from her head as she felt the unmistakable rigidity underneath her bottom. He was so _hard_ , that it made the walls of her passage twitch with the need to have him inside, as deeply as possible, stretching her, filling her… 

Firmly, insistently, Mr. Malfoy made Rose straddle his hips. She almost sobbed at the feeling of his unyielding length against her soft seam. The fabric of his trousers scratched her sensitive, swollen flesh, and Rose had to restrain herself from reaching down to unfasten the buttons of his fly and to pull him out. The mere thought of touching him, the most intimate part of him, made her giddy with lust, but something told her that Mr. Malfoy would not appreciate it. But she couldn’t stop herself from pushing down on his cock and grinding herself against it. Her hips were moving of their own accord, her motions urgent and instinctive, her need to come now beyond her control. 

Somewhere in her head a small voice wondered how could _he_ remain so calm and controlled, when she was writhing on top of him like a wild cat. At this thought the dark, spiraling fog in her mind cleared a bit, and Rose looked at Mr. Malfoy, suddenly feeling shy and insecure.

He was leaning back, languid and relaxed, his upturned pale face gleaming in the dim light of the room, his shimmering gaze fixed on her flushed face, covered with tiny droplets of sweat. His cruel mouth was curved into a strange vague smile, his eyelids at half-mast. The enigmatic expression of his face reminded her of The Sphinx, the ageless keeper of long-forgotten secrets, crouched upon the golden Egyptian sands… 

For a moment Rose simply stared at him, transfixed, trapped in the endless depths of his eyes, until Mr. Malfoy moved his hand between them, and reached down to the wet, throbbing flesh at the apex of her thighs. She almost screamed when his fingers gently parted the dewy petals that hid her slick entrance. …And then Rose was arching and gasping loudly, her head falling back, her eyes rolling up, because his long, dexterous fingers slipped inside and curled, lightly brushing against a small spot that made her see stars. 

But he was still, both his body and his hand between her legs, and very soon the acute, piercing pleasure abated a bit, and Rose looked down at him, silently begging him to stop tormenting her. He laughed quietly at the expression in her eyes, and this soft, deep sound slid over her skin like a velvet brush, making her shiver. Then his other hand touched her hip, squeezing the soft flesh slightly, and Mr. Malfoy whispered, “Move for me, Rose…”

Obediently, she started raising and lowering herself on his lap, his fingers still buried in her quivering passage, their soft pads caressing ever-so-lightly the bundle of nerves inside… Rose moved unsteadily, inexpertly, trying frantically to reach the hovering edge that was so close and yet, somehow, so far away… 

Suddenly, Mr. Malfoy’s hand grasped her hip and held her firmly, forcing Rose to stop. “Slow down, little one,” he said, his voice low and raspy. “Don’t try to force it… Squeeze my fingers. Harder. Harder… Yessss… Now move with me…”  
And then reality slipped away and Rose fell into an enchanted dream, full of dark whispers, and moans, and the sound of heavy breathing… 

_…His hand gently holds her hip, helping her to find the right rhythm, his quietly reassuring words telling her what to do and how to move…_

_Rose obeys every word, she tries so hard, she wants to please him so very much…_

_His gaze is burning her, but she dares not close her eyes, even though she feels endlessly vulnerable at this moment... She fears that he will tear away the final layer hiding her defenseless soul, that he will destroy this last bastion, protecting her from him…_

_“Don’t fight it… Open up to me… Let it happen…”_

_And then he lightly touches the very centre of her desire, and Rose screams, and shudders, and falls… falls upwards into dark infinity towards the spinning, bright stars and ageless, searing lights…_

_She shivers violently, weak like a newborn kitten against his strong lean body… She cannot catch her breath, cannot stop the tears falling down her cheeks… She feels like she is drowning, and his encircling embrace is the only thing that holds her afloat…_

**. . .**

Later Mr. Malfoy expertly straightened her crumpled dress, brushed away the wild curls sticking to her damp face, carefully wiped away her tears with a handkerchief… Rose obeyed him mechanically, barely understanding what was happening. Shocked, flabbergasted, fearful, she stared at his impassive face. Somehow, in a matter of seconds, he had transformed from the dark, sensual man who had pleasured her with such exquisite expertise, into the composed, suave gentleman he had always been. Was it just a mask, or was it his true face?

“How… how do you do it?” she whispered in a trembling, strained voice. “How do you know this about me?”

Unhurriedly, he put the earrings into her ears, then bent slightly and looked into her wide eyes. “I didn’t do anything, Rose,” he answered calmly. “You did it yourself. I just helped you to open up.”

She couldn’t help leaning forward, longing to steal a kiss from his lips, but, again, he firmly held her back.

A horrible, painful realisation flashed through her mind. “You don’t want me,” her voice sounded detached and strange to her own ears. 

For a moment he regarded her coolly. “I do want you Rose,” he said smoothly. “But as a friend, not as a lover. You are one of the very few people in my life I ever cared for, and I did miss you a lot… much to my surprise, I must admit. I never doubted that rejecting you was a right thing to do, though. You were so very young, and I felt that your infatuation with me had a profoundly detrimental effect on you…” for a moment he was silent, his piercing, unwavering gaze fixed on her crestfallen face. Then he murmured quietly, “I am a deeply flawed man, Rose, and it’s something I neither regret, not wish to change. And you are so innocent, so… _pure_. …You deserve someone much, much better than I am, little one. Still, I’d like to have you back in my life. As a friend. But it’s for you to decide whether or not that is going to happen.”

“But _why_ did you do it? Just now. _Why_ did you have to… to… give me something so… so _beautiful_ , just to take it away?” She was desperate now, on the verge of tears again, grief squeezing her throat with a ruthless fist. 

“Because I wanted to show you that you are a healthy, passionate woman. Because I think it is a crime for a sweet, exquisite creature like you to spend her nights alone for the fear of being rejected.”

Rose looked at him helplessly and silently. He didn’t understand… _He didn’t understand_ what was happening to her, what he was doing to her. He thought it was a simple physical attraction, but it was so, so much more. 

“I can’t be with anyone else, but you,” she said quietly. “It’s not that I don’t want to… I simply… can’t. For eight years I tried to find someone, _anyone_ , who could make me feel like you did, and I never could. And I tried so hard to forget you, to forget about everything that had happened between us, to… to stop yearning for you…” She shook her head hopelessly. “But today I realised that I failed miserably. It’s just… it’s beyond my control.” 

“You think so because I was the only one who gave you pleasure, Rose. But other men can do it too, believe me. You just have to give them a chance.”

She ignored these words, because they were meaningless to her. Instead, she looked up at his unbearably calm face, into his mercilessly dispassionate eyes, that were boring into her own eyes with frightening intensity. 

“Just tell me why?” she begged. “Why are you pushing me away? You’ve said you had a great many of women… why, then, can’t I be one of them? How am I different from them? Give me the reason. _Please…_ ”

Something shifted in his expression at these words, but it was quickly replaced by unwavering resolve. “But you _are_ different, little Red,” he answered, his eyes softening, his fingers brushing lovingly against her cheek. “And that is _precisely_ the reason why.” 

She wanted to continue her entreaties, but now his fingers were pressing against her trembling lips, silencing her. “No more questions, Rose.” His tone left no room for objections, and Rose hung her head in defeat. She was exhausted from trying to win the heart of this heartless man. It seemed the battle had been lost before it had even begun.

Silently, she allowed Mr. Malfoy to pull her to her feet and escort her home, apparating them to a shadowy corner of the street where she lived. 

For a moment he gazed down at her sad, pallid face, then he bent down to imprint a chaste, tender kiss on her forehead. “It was wonderful to see you again, little Red,” he murmured softly. “Thank you for joining me for dinner.” Then, without further ado, he apparated away, leaving her standing alone upon the dark cobbled street, trembling in the cool night breeze.

Rose spent that night bitterly weeping, her pillow muffling her loud, sorrowful sobs. 

She wept because she belonged to a man who would never, never belong to her…


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter may be upsetting to women with fertility issues.

The expedition to Brazil was pure hell. 

The archeologists were searching for the ruins of an ancient city that had been built by a magical civilization which once had thrived in the Amazon rainforest. The exact location of the city was unknown – the team only knew that it was situated somewhere within the boundaries of a wide quadrant of jungle in the center of Vale do Javari reserve. It was akin to looking for a needle in a haystack, so the researchers had to rely heavily on specialised scanning spells, mapping the territory as they advanced deeper and further into the formidable depths of the forest. 

This expedition turned out to be the most difficult of all Rose had taken part of. The jungles were so dense that it was impossible to simply walk through them – the archeologists had to fight their way through, ruthlessly cutting stubborn vegetation with the severing charms with every single step, so their progress was excruciatingly slow. During the first couple of days, Rose couldn’t shake off the sickening feeling of claustrophobia – something she hadn’t expected to experience in a forest. But here, surrounded by seemingly impenetrable green walls and suffocated by thick humid air, filled with countless exotic odours and aromas, she sometimes felt as claustrophobic as in the smallest tomb she’d ever had the misfortune to visit.  
Weather was another thing that seemed impossible to get used to. Rose was accustomed to the dry heat of deserts, which was easier to endure. Here, the weather was very hot and unbearably humid – a combination she hadn’t experienced before. Cooling charms provided only weak relief, so within minutes after taking a cold shower in her tiny, shabby magical tent, she was covered from head to toe with a thick layer of disgusting sticky sweat, dripping down her body in small streams, saturating her clothes and driving her crazy with the need to shower over and over again. 

Life flourished here with unparalleled exuberance, but, it seemed, humans were not meant to be a part of this beautiful world. The archeologists had to renew their shielding charms every couple of hours – not to ward off spells and curses, but to repel innumerable dangerous animals and insects. 

“In the Amazon, you can never be too cautious,” the head of the expedition, Rafael Afonso, liked to repeat. He was an accomplished Brazilian archeologist with a career spanning more than three decades. “Let your guard down for a minute, and you’re as good as dead.”

At first, Rose didn’t take his words too seriously – when it came to safety, Rafael seemed to be as paranoid as the infamous Alastor Moody – but when five days into the expedition she had the most unpleasant encounter with a particularly aggressive Brazilian Wandering Spider, she had to admit that the Amazonian fauna was not something to trifle with. 

Very soon, the constant need to be on alert combined with ever-mounting exhaustion and frustration over their slow progress, transformed the already unpleasant journey into a pure nightmare. It was especially difficult during the evenings, when the scant sunlight that managed to penetrate the thick foliage canopy during the day quickly died away, and the endless bowels of the forest were flooded with inky shadows. That was the time when Rose’s mind started playing tricks on her, turning every liana over her head into a venomous snake, and hiding a crouching jaguar behind every shrub. Terrified and bone-tired, she would rush into the relative safety of her tent only to spend the night listening to the never-ending cacophony of noises that could drive even the most resilient person insane. 

And yet, some part of her was enjoying this torturous experience and was craving for even more difficult challenges. Rose knew that this was what she needed, truly needed, right now. Work had always been her salvation; during the darkest moments of her life it had pulled her out of the depths of depression and had held her afloat. And now she needed it as desperately as ever.  
During the days, when she, along with her colleagues, forced their way through the jungle, there was no time to worry about anything else, except their goal and the dangers around them. And during the nights, when, catatonic with exhaustion, Rose lay on her narrow bed, she had no strength or even desire to think about anything at all. …Not even about Mr. Malfoy. 

Their dinner in Paris had been a mistake – a huge, stupid, careless mistake on her part. Rose could clearly see it now. Ever since finishing Hogwarts she had been working so hard, trying to forget him, trying to wrest this insanity out of her mind, and she had almost achieved this elusive goal… only to be thrown all the way back to the beginning of that onerous journey by the mere sight of him. 

This… this thing that she felt for Mr. Malfoy was not normal; it was a disease, a curse for which she couldn’t find a cure. It made her feel weak, powerless, and afraid. It filled her with shame and anger. And if she didn’t love him, she would probably hate him. 

If only she could understand why he had pushed her away... But trying to understand him was a futile thing to do – that much Rose already knew. And trying to make him change his mind was simply impossible. No, the only thing she could do was to bury the memories of their night in Paris in the same vault where she had kept the memories of that other fateful night in the Malfoy Manor. And to throw the key away. …And to pray to never see him again. Because one thing was now pretty clear – the desire she felt for Mr. Malfoy was stronger than her will and her pride, and, given the chance, she would repeat the same mistake over and over again.

. . . 

Three weeks into the expedition, when their hopes of finding the ancient city started to fade, the archeologists finally stumbled upon a large conglomeration of ruins, and the excavations began. 

It was excruciatingly difficult work which required painstaking attention to details. With infinite care they sought to free the remnants of the great city from the clutches of the jungle, gradually revealing more and more of its unique beauty and great size. It turned out to be much larger than they had expected, so an additional archeological team had to be called for backup. Despite that, they progressed at a snail’s pace, and five months in since the expedition began they were still not even close to the end. 

Every evening Rose was almost sobbing from fatigue, but the thought of leaving never crossed her mind. To her, just like to everyone around her, archeology wasn’t just a profession – it was her religion, her passion and her obsession, and she knew that nothing in the world could ever make her quit it. 

The French archeological team had a long-running tradition: when they discovered a new chamber – be it a tomb, a treasure-trove, or a vault – they drew lots to see who would enter first. It was more of a safety precaution – if the room was cursed, only one of them would be affected. Despite this, everyone, including Rose, wanted to be the lucky winner. This expedition was multinational, but in the spirit of co-operation – and for the fun of it – everybody agreed to follow this tradition.

And this was how Rose found herself – yet again – standing with her colleagues in a large circle and staring with barely-contained excitement at the magical wand, hovering in the center. They were grouped in front of an enormous pair of stone doors, leading into the most mysterious chamber in the entire city – the main library. It took them weeks to unravel the intricate spell-work cast upon the doors, but the result was well worth the effort, and now everyone was eager to start exploring the knowledge of the long-dead civilisation.

André Leroy, the head of the French team, muttered the required spell, and the wand started spinning with the lightning speed. The group of wizards and witches were standing still, holding their breaths, until the wand stopped, its sharp tip pointing at Rose, who immediately let out a loud squeal of delight, making everyone around her laugh. 

“Well, here you go, _choupinette_!” said Elise, one of Rose’s Parisian colleagues. “Finally, you get to be the winner, too!”

“ _Thank Merlin_!” exclaimed Rose, giddy with excitement. “I thought it was never going to happen!”

Soon after she was standing still, listening to the last-minute instructions from Rafael, while André cast multiple shielding and protective spells on her. 

“Alright, kid, you know the drill,” said André quietly, when he finished his spellwork. “If something goes wrong, you do your best to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible, understood? No foolish bravery in the name of science or anything like that. Do you understand me?”

Rose smiled up at the older man, who had been her supervisor and mentor since the beginning of her career. Large and strong, like a bull, André hid a soft heart and a gentle soul beneath his rough exterior and cared deeply for every member of his team.  
“Don’t worry, André, everything is going to be alright,” she answered, touched to see the genuine concern in his eyes but determined to prove her worth. In the past, her colleagues had put their safety on the line for the sake of others, and now it was her turn to do the same. And she had not been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing. 

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the doors, gaping at her like the open maw of a huge beast, ready to swallow its unwitting prey. This analogy made her shiver, but with sheer force of will Rose suppressed her fear and resolutely approached the threshold. Then, with a loud gulp, she stepped over it. 

When nothing happened, she heard the exclamations of relief behind her and released a breath, she hadn’t realised she had been holding. 

“Alright, now take a couple more steps, then stand still for a moment,” ordered Rafael in a hushed voice, as if afraid to speak louder. 

Rose moved a little deeper into the library, tightly gripping her wand with her sweating hand, straining her eyes in an attempt to see through the darkness that engulfed the largest part of the enormous chamber. They had tried casting Lumos Maxima from the hall but without any success, so now only the soft glow of her colleagues’ wands lit her way. But she could see a small section of the stone wall on her right with long rows of wooden shelves, crammed with rolls of thick bark paper.

The smell of dust and old magic became stronger, and Rose was suddenly overcome with an intense desire to flee. She bit hard on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from giving in, and stubbornly stood her ground. 

“It seems there is nothing to fear here,” she said loudly, with much more confidence then she felt. “I am going to cast Lumos Maxima now”. 

“Ok, just be careful,” answered Rafael, his usually smooth Portuguese accent so thick from worry, that she could barely understand him. 

Gulping, Rose lifted her wand and after a long, torturous moment of indecision, muttered the incantation.  
Blinding white light burst out from the tip of her wand, and almost instantly Rose felt as if she had been hit by a bolt of lightning. A wave of furious energy crashed over her, knocking her to the floor with its brutal force, and tearing a horrible shrill scream out of her throat. Rose felt her muscles spasming chaotically, her body twisting wildly, and her bones bending and breaking with sickening crunches. She could hear her own wail – strangely distant and distorted – and panicking shrieks of her colleagues. Then there was a new pain, sharp and stabbing, somewhere deep in her chest, and suddenly she couldn’t breath anymore, and then the pressure, born by the overwhelming need for air, started building up inside her lungs, expanding, expanding, expanding, until she was choking and flailing, her eyes bulging out of her head, her mouth opened wide in a now-silent scream, her nails scratching her chest, trying in the agony-induced madness to tear it open to let the air in…  
Then darkness descended, its cold, unmoving waters closing in and around her and pulling her under, deeper and deeper into the place, where there was no pain or fear, and no light or sound. Into the place, where there was nothing at all. 

 

. . . 

 

Voices were coming out of the darkness.

**“…diagnostic spells indicate…”**

**“…brain activity is normalizing…”**

**“...call madam Richmond for an additional consultation…”**

**“…my dear colleague, I have already told you...”**

**“…look at these indications…”**

Her eyelids seemed to weigh a couple of tons each, but with great difficulty Rose opened her eyes. Instantly, she was blinded by a harsh glaring light that seemed to burn a white-hot line through her eyeballs straight into her brain. Uttering a weak painful moan, she screwed up her eyes and tried to shield them with her hands but couldn’t move her arms even an inch. 

The voices fell silent, and then she heard the sound of hurriedly approaching footsteps. 

“Miss Weasley?” an unfamiliar man asked loudly, something like incredulous excitement lacing his tone. “Can you hear me?”

Rose wanted to answer that, yes, she could hear him, and she would appreciate it very much if he kept his voice down – but it seemed she was simply unable to make her mouth form the required words. Her lips were numb and her tongue felt like a dead piece of flesh: dry, frozen, and unmoving. 

She moaned again, but this time more out of fear and confusion. It seemed this little whimper was the only sound she could produce at the moment. 

“I will dim the lights now…” said the man, who apparently had regained his composure and now sounded calm and professional. “Try to open your eyes.”

Cautiously, she opened her eyes and saw a bearded, bespectacled face hovering above her. Her vision was blurred, and her eyes started watering, but Rose kept them wide open, trying hard to make out the man’s features. 

Thousands of panicky questions started swirling chaotically in her head, _‘Who is he? Where am I? What happened? Why can’t I talk? Why can’t I movie? WHY CAN’T I MOVE???’_

As if sensing her mounting distress, the man said hurriedly, “Try to calm down, Miss Weasley. You are in St Mungo’s, and your parents will be notified that you have woken up as soon as possible. You’ve been in a coma for almost ten months, and despite our best efforts, your muscles have atrophied. Don’t worry, you will be able to move again after…”

But Rose wasn’t listening to him anymore – blind panic was building up inside her, quickly and relentlessly, like a tidal wave, threatening to crush down and swallow her whole. Her body felt like a dead alien thing, and she was trapped inside it, unable to move, or talk, or even scream.

She started to hyperventilate, terrified hoarse sounds coming from her throat, her body breaking into sweat…

The man lifted his wand, and seconds later everything went dark. 

. . . 

The second time, Rose woke up to the sound of quiet sobs. Someone was holding her hand, squeezing it gently, running a thumb back and forth over her knuckles. With a soft moan, Rose opened her eyes. She heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, then her bed dipped, and she saw the tear-stricken face of her mother surround by the halo of wild chestnut hair. 

“Rosie…” she whispered with difficulty, her voice thick with emotion, “My little girl… My angel… We thought we’d lost you…”  
Bending down, she started covering Rose’s face with fervent little kisses, murmuring sweet nonsensical endearments that only a mother would say to her child. 

Rose wanted so badly to smile or say something, but the only thing she could do was weakly move her fingers, still clasped in her mother’s hand. 

This tiny action drained all her strength, and very soon her eyelids started drooping. The last thing she saw before falling asleep was the pale face of her father, tears running freely down his blotchy cheeks. This sight was shocking – she had never seen him cry before – but Rose was too tired to try to somehow comfort him, and so she succumbed to sleep. 

. . . 

 

The recovery turned out to be a slow and boring process. Rose spent the first two weeks in bed, mostly sleeping, too weakened by her prolonged illness to do anything else. Eventually, she started regaining her strength, but it seemed that during the ten months of coma her body forgot how to move properly. And, just like a toddler, she had to relearn how to do even the simplest things, like bringing a spoon to her mouth or brushing her teeth. But multiple medicinal potions helped to speed up this process, and in just five weeks after regaining consciousness, she could speak clearly, eat unassisted and stand on her own for almost a minute.

At approximately the same time, the healers decided that Rose was ready to receive more visitors, and the following day she got to see Hugo and her grandparents, along with a couple of her cousins. They stayed for almost an hour, filling her in on everything she had missed while being in the coma. Then, noticing her eyelids starting to droop, they bid farewell and quietly exited the ward.

Seeing her relatives felt bittersweet because it made Rose realise with painful clarity that she had lost ten months of her life and that her illness hadn’t really affected her family in any profound way. Lily had married her long-term boyfriend, Molly got engaged, Roxanne embarked on an around-the-world trip, Hugo had been promoted and was the DMLE’s youngest chief lawyer, while his wife was now carrying their second child…

The news of Lily getting married while Rose had been comatose was especially upsetting. 

_‘Couldn’t she wait till I woke up?’ Rose thought bitterly. ‘Or did she give up on me so quickly?’_. 

She felt guilty for having such thoughts – after all, it was irrational and egoistical to expect Lily to postpone her life because of her – but she couldn’t help it. 

Later in the day, she got a visit from Al and Scorp, who entered the ward carrying a huge vase with an exquisite bouquet of pink roses. Then, closing the door and thus effectively cutting off the sound of an excited whisper and giggling from the female nurses, Scorp, with a dramatic flourish of his wand, presented Rose with something that immediately managed to lighten her mood – a box of chocolate-covered cream eclairs from her favorite Parisian pastry-shop. 

She was very touched when Al, blinking furiously to force back his tears, squeezed her in a bear hug and gruffly said that he had missed her. Scorpius also hugged her, though much more gently, then, lifting her chin with two fingers, said that he seriously considered kidnapping her and keeping her confined in Malfoy Manor for her own safety. Rose giggled, though from the way he looked at her she could tell that soon she would have to endure another lengthy lecture on, “All the reasons why Rose should choose a different profession”. And that was something she was not looking forward to. 

The young men also had some interesting news to share. Apparently, Al was madly in love with some girl named Olivia and was considering proposing to her. He decided to wait until his “lil’ sis” was feeling well enough to attend the engagement party, though. His words made Rose tear up a little, and she immediately promised herself to try her best to become friends with this “Olivia” even if she was just as over-the-top fancy and conceited as Al’s previous long-term girlfriend. 

Scorpius’s news was far less exciting – his father had forced him to take charge over one of Malfoy trading companies, so his carefree life of a wealthy playboy was now over. As the young man was telling Rose about his new job, she was looking at his ridiculously handsome face, but an image of another man – so similar and yet, somehow, very different – appeared in her mind. She was dying to ask Scorpius about Mr. Malfoy ( _‘What did he say when he heard about my illness? Did he worry about me? Did he come to visit me in the hospital? …Is he still single?’_ ), but knowing that Al would find her sudden interest in Malfoy-senior strange (while Scorp would find it suspicious and annoying), she decided to hold her tongue.

When the young men left, Rose lay down on her bed, exhausted after the day’s events. Before falling asleep her thoughts drifted to Mr. Malfoy. The possibility of him not being single anymore filled her with dread. More than sixteen months had passed since the last time they had seen each other. What if he had met some interesting woman and had fallen in love? What if he had forgotten her? This thought was… unbearable. And she decided that if that indeed was true, she would leave Europe and move to the States. And maybe then, with thousands of miles of ocean between them, she would finally be able to forget him and to start her life anew. 

. . . 

 

Her mother looked nervous as she entered the ward early Saturday morning. Rose was nervous too – at nine AM she was scheduled to see Mr. Baker, the chief mediwizard of the Spell Damage Department. The reason why the wizard suddenly had requested to see Rose and her mother was unknown, and she could only hope that he simply wanted to discharge her from the hospital. Though that seemed unlikely – while Rose was on a fast-track to complete recovery, she was still taking lots of potions and going through multiple rehabilitation procedures. 

“Alright,” said Hermione briskly, which sounded a bit too forced for Rose’s liking, “seeing that it’s still early, and I am already here, we might as well do something useful, though utterly unpleasant. But, as they say, eat a live frog first thing in the morning…” 

“What are you talking about?” asked Rose, puzzled by her mother’s strange behavior. 

Pursing her lips, Hermione enlarged the bedside table with a flick of her wand, then fished a blank sheet of expensive-looking paper out of her purse. Laying it on the table, she took an inkwell and quill out of the top drawer and placed them next to the parchment.

Clearing her throat, she then looked at Rose who had been watching these preparations with raised eyebrows. 

“You have to write a thank-you letter to Malfoy-senior,” Hermione said rather abruptly, her face acquiring a sour expression.  
Rose’s eyes widened, utterly perplexed by these words. She was so surprised that she didn’t even take a moment to process this strange situation – her discussing Mr. Malfoy with her _mother_ , who knew nothing about the important role this man had played in her daughter’s life. 

“Why?” she asked simply.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione lowered herself to a chair. “Well… I never really told you about how we managed to transport you from Brazil to London…” she started rather glumly, “not that I kept it a secret or anything. I was just waiting until you felt better… Anyway…as you may have guessed, your colleagues managed to portkey you safely to Rio de Janeiro. However, the Brazilian healers pronounced your braindead and agreed to keep you on life-support for only one day. Your supervisor, André Leroy, immediately contacted us, but it was night-time here, and, as you can imagine, finding an emergency medical portkey from London to Rio was not an easy thing to do. I was at a complete loss, panicking, so I started Flooing everyone…” her voice broke, and she had to stop, her lips quivering and tears filling her eyes. 

Rose’s heart throbbed painfully at the sight, and she took her mother’s hand, squeezing it lovingly. Not for the first time she felt a profound sense of guilt for putting her family through so much stress and pain. After a moment of visibly trying to collect herself, Hermione continued to speak. “Well, long story short, Albus heard the news and immediately Floo’d Scorpius, who then asked his father for help. And… I don’t know how Malfoy did it, but in four hours you were already in St Mungo’s. He even hired a team of world-renowned healers for a consultation and found some Argentinian mediwitch specializing in rare South American curses. She was the one who stabilized your condition and said that you had a chance for survival. We, of course, thanked Malfoy many times and offered to pay him back, but he refused!”

Hermione abruptly stood up and started pacing around the room in agitation. “I suppose he just loves having it over me!” she spat crossly. “Probably hoping to benefit somehow from this in the future! _Argh_!”

Rose stared at her open-mouthed, not quite believing her ears. She knew that her mother had always disliked Mr. Malfoy, but not to such an extent. Had something happened between them while she had been comatose? Or, maybe, even earlier? 

“Have you considered that he did it simply because Scorpius asked him? I have been his son’s close friend since childhood, after all…” she said carefully. 

Hermione let out a bark of laughter, “Ha! Rose, your naivety is almost adorable! You know nothing about this man and the things he’s capable of! Such people never do anything out of the goodness of their hearts! I can’t believe Harry and I were stupid enough to let you and Al spend your summers at Malfoy Manor! He managed to fool us all, that… that… _ferret_!”

“Well, that _ferret_ saved your daughter’s life,” Rose replied coldly, “so, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.” 

“Ah, I knew you wouldn’t understand.” With a tired sigh, Hermione fell on the chair, seemingly exhausted from her outburst. “You have no involvement in politics, and Malfoy, unfortunately, has far too much.”

“So that is why you’re so angry with Mr. Malfoy? You had some problems with him at work?” Rose was now quite curious. She didn’t know that Mr. Malfoy had been involved in politics.

“I cannot tell you anything, Rose, this information is confidential,” her mother replied evasively. “Just write the letter, and let’s get it over with. I can only imagine the things he would say about our family if…”

She fell silent, interrupted by the sound of the opening door. They both stood up as Mr. Baker entered the ward. The serious expression on his usually-smiling face filled Rose with dread. 

After greetings and handshakes, the wizard asked both women to be seated, while he remained standing in the middle of the room. Rose exchanged an anxious look with her mother, before perching tensely on the edge of her bed. 

Mr. Baker cleared his throat and looked directly at Rose. “Miss Weasley, now that your recovery is almost complete, we have decided that it is time to tell you about certain…complications of the curse you suffered.”

Rose began to tremble. She felt her mother’s warm fingers squeezing her cold hand, but this comforting gesture did nothing to soothe the sickening feeling of anxiety in her chest. 

“What complications are you talking about, Mr. Baker?” asked Hermione, her voice tense and fearful. 

The healer adjusted his glasses with a slightly nervous gesture. “It’s rather a delicate subject, I’m afraid,” he said. “It is a health-related issue…in short, we are speaking of your future ability to carry a child.”

Rose paled. “What do you mean?” she whispered.

Mr Baker grimaced, as if forced to perform a most loathsome task. “You see, Miss Weasley… in magical folk, conception happens with the help of intrinsic white magic. This magic may be severely affected by certain dark curses and spells. It is believed to be the reason why dark witches and wizards usually have few or no children. …Unfortunately, this was what happened in your case, Miss Weasley. I am very sorry to inform you that the curse has rendered you infertile. The affliction is incurable. We…”

He kept talking, but the sound of his voice turned into a white noise that filled her ears, effectively blocking his words. At first, Rose couldn’t even fully comprehend the meaning of this word. Infertile. That’s what they called women who couldn’t have children… 

_“…the curse has rendered you infertile…”_ And it meant that… 

She felt numb.

She had never seriously considered having children, but this vague idea of one day getting married, starting a family, and giving birth to her first child had always been somewhere in the back of her mind. Deep inside, almost subconsciously, this was what she had associated true happiness with. And now…

Now it was gone. 

She stared in front of her in a daze. Some detached part of her brain registered that Mr. Baker had left the room and that her mother was quietly sitting next to her, her hand tenderly running up and down her back, her expression one of sadness and concern. 

Without saying a word, Rose crawled into her bed and turned to face the wall, bringing her knees to her chest. 

She wanted to be left alone. 

Because this… _This_ was something too personal, a sorrow too great to be shared with anyone. It felt like her soul was ripped in pieces, and one of those pieces was taken away from her forever. The piece that she would give to her child… 

The bed dipped, and she felt her mother laying down next to her and hugging her like she had done so many times when Rose was a child, afraid of nightmares. Back then, her mere presence was enough for all the monsters to crawl back into their dark corners, and for the bad dreams to stop.

Rose closed her eyes. Maybe this was just a bad dream, too. Maybe, when she would wake up, this nightmare would be over, and everything would be fine. 

Maybe…

. . . 

 

He came when she was least expecting it. 

It was Friday evening, and she had just finished her shower after an exhausting physiotherapeutic session. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, trying to untangle her wild wet curls when someone knocked on the door. 

“It’s open!” Rose said loudly, thinking that it was a nurse or, perhaps, one of her relatives. 

The door opened, and suddenly it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, and she couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Mr. M-Malfoy…” she stuttered, looking at him with wide eyes, afraid that he would disappear like a mirage if she so much as blinked. 

“Hello, Rose,” he said with that gentle little smile that she had seen in her dreams more times that she dared to count. 

She couldn’t stop staring at him. He was just… so _beautiful_. Tall, lean, graceful, dressed in an impeccably tailored dark-blue suit with a waistcoat of the same color and a white oxford shirt. His wide silky tie and intricately-folded pocket square were also navy-blue and covered with white polka dots. Despite the elegant simplicity of his clothes, he somehow looked supremely stylish and very sophisticated, and it made Rose realise that she was sitting in front of him barefoot, without a drop of makeup on her face, wearing only a plain fluffy bathrobe. 

Upon hearing his low chuckle, she looked back up at his face and, as usual, it took her breath away. Now his smile was wider, and his mercurial eyes were sparkling with humor, and he was just so unbearably handsome, that it almost hurt. How was she – or any woman – supposed to resist such ruthless allure? 

Realising that he had caught her staring, Rose blushed hotly. 

“It’s alright, you can look all you want,” he said with a brilliant smile. “I enjoy having such an effect on women.”

It sounded so much like something Scorpius would say that, before she could stop herself, Rose answered teasingly, “I am sure you do,” surprising both him and herself.

He laughed, and she smiled shyly, her heart skipping a beat, as he slowly approached her bed with the dangerous liquid grace of a large feline. Just now noticing that she was still holding her hairbrush, Rose put it away and made a move to stand up, but Mr. Malfoy stopped her.

“No, don’t get up,” he said quickly, gently clasping her shoulder to prevent her from standing. Then, looking at her face with concern, he added, “You look very tired. I should have come earlier, but I didn’t want to run into one of your many relatives. I’m sure they wouldn’t be thrilled to see me here.”

“I don’t care about them!” exclaimed Rose, her voice strong and passionate. “You saved my life, and you can visit me here whenever you want!” Impulsively she grasped his hand with both of hers, looking up at him with her wide blue eyes, knowing that every single emotion she felt for this man was clearly written all over her face. “Thank you…” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat. “I will never forget what you did for me… You… you have no idea how much it means to me… How much _you_ mean to me…”

For a long moment, Mr. Malfoy simply stared down at her with a strangely guarded expression, his eyes intense, his gaze unnervingly piercing. It felt like he was looking into her very soul, and Rose had to fight the urge to lower her eyes and hide from him. Intuitively she knew that it would be a grave mistake, that she _had_ to let him do… whatever he wanted. 

Some dark emotion flashed through his eyes, so quickly that she barely had time to register it, then, suddenly, he bent forward, wrapped one strong arm around her waist and pulled her on her feet in one smooth, powerful move. 

Rose gasped when he drew her into a tight hug, almost crushing her against his hard chest. His other hand slipped into her curls, pressing her head against his shoulder. 

“Don’t thank me, little Red, because I did it as much for myself, as I did it for you…” he murmured, the sound of his voice reverberating through his chest and making her shiver. “I would turn the world upside down to save you…”

At that moment she wanted so badly to kiss him, to feel the press of his lips against hers, the warmth of his breath against her skin… But she didn’t dare, afraid to be rejected yet again. 

The shrill sound of a bell, signifying the end of visiting hours, made her wince regretfully. 

With a barely audible sigh, Mr. Malfoy pulled back and looked at her open, guileless face. “When will you be discharged?” he asked quietly. 

“In nine days,” Rose answered absentmindedly, staring avidly into his silvery eyes, almost hypnotized by the way they sparkled in the bright light of the overhead lamp. 

“Will you return to Paris?”

“Yes…”

He gently ran his knuckles down her cheek, his gaze briefly pausing on her soft lips, before he let her go. 

“I will owl you,” he said. “We should celebrate your recovery.” Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a tiny object and carefully placed it on the bedside table. With one flick on his wand, the object was enlarged to the size of a football, and Rose saw that it was something round, covered in a piece of dark silk.

“What is it?” she asked, surprised and curious. 

Instead of answering Mr. Malfoy pulled the silk away, and Rose gasped when she saw a crystal sphere, and inside of it - a fragile white bud on a short stem, adorned with large green leaves. 

“The midnight star…” she whispered, staring at the plant with undisguised astonishment. 

Very few people had had a chance to admire the unique beauty of this magical flower, because it only grew in the depths of the forests of Sri Lanka and bloomed once a year, at midnight, perishing within minutes of unfurling its petals. Rose had learned about it from books about Sri Lankan culture, history and mythology, but she had never thought that one day she would see it with her own eyes. 

“I knew that you would be one of the few who could appreciate such a gift,” murmured Mr. Malfoy. 

But when Rose lifted her eyes, she saw that he wasn’t looking at the flower. Instead, his gaze was fixed on her face. 

“But… I thought it was impossible to cut it without killing it…” she said, befuddled, trying to remember everything she had read about the flower. 

“It is possible… just very difficult. …It will bloom tonight. And I hope it will be just as awe-inspiring as they say it is.”

Rose looked at him, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions that flooded her at the thought that he had gone out of his way to find something so precious… for _her_. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly, though her tone spoke magnitudes, expressing everything she simply could not put into words. “It is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me…”

Mr. Malfoy smiled, then, gently grasping her hand, impressed a burning kiss on her wrist, causing a wave of goosebumps to erupt all over her body. “Goodnight, little Red,” he said softly. “I hope I will see you soon.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Malfoy,” whispered Rose, not quite trusting herself to speak louder. Her heart sang, and she felt like it was about to burst from pure happiness. She couldn’t believe it was truly happening. After all these years she finally found a way to break through the wall of ice that surrounded the only man she had ever loved… 

When he left, Rose locked the door and turned off the lights, then sat in front of her bedside table, staring at the crystal sphere, waiting to witness the miracle that only a few in the world had had a chance to behold. 

The flower was softly glowing in the darkness, still sleeping, but on the cusp of waking up to its fleeting effulgent life. When midnight fell and the white petals moved slightly, Rose held her breath and leaned closer to the sphere, wishing to remember every single moment. 

Slowly, almost shyly, the petals unfurled, revealing the pale-golden center of the flower with five long, slender stamens around a large stark-white pistil. A cloud of sparkling pollen grains burst into the air inside the sphere, floating around, like tiny golden snowflakes slowly falling onto the leaves and petals of the flower. 

Rose felt her heart squeeze with sweet pain. Such fragile, ephemeral beauty… 

A strange, but powerful feeling suddenly arose inside of her – a confusing blend of fear and excitement, anticipation and anxiety. She was standing on the precipice of a new chapter of her life - a chapter which, she was sure, would be bright, and exciting, and full of love and happiness. 

A chapter, in which _they_ – she and Mr. Malfoy – would be together. 

A chapter that would be as beautiful as this flower. 

Suddenly, so quickly that Rose almost missed it, a small spot appeared on the edge of one of the petals, spreading with lightning speed, eating away the pure white color, and leaving nothing but crumpled brown flesh in its wake. 

She watched, fascinated, as the flower succumbed to its destiny and died after just a few precious moments of life. 

Then the soft glow disappeared completely, leaving her all alone in the silent darkness of the room. 

 

The end of the part one.


End file.
